ith your jokes, the money
is still here, and it is fast getting along toward burglar-time."

"True. Very well, what shall we do--make the inquiry private? No, not
that; it would spoil the romance. The public method is better. Think
what a noise it will make! And it will make all the other towns jealous;
for no stranger would trust such a thing to any town but Hadleyburg, and
they know it. It's a great card for us. I must get to the
printing-office now, or I shall be too late."

"But stop--stop--don't leave me here alone with it, Edward!"

But he was gone. For only a little while, however. Not far from his own
house he met the editor--proprietor of the paper, and gave him the
document, and said "Here is a good thing for you, Cox--put it in."

"It may be too late, Mr. Richards, but I'll see."

At home again, he and his wife sat down to talk the charming mystery
over; they were in no condition for sleep. The first question was, Who
could the citizen have been who gave the stranger the twenty dollars? It
seemed a simple one; both answered it in the same breath--

"Barclay Goodson."

"Yes," said Richards, "he could have done it, and it would have been like
him, but there's not another in the town."

"Everybody will grant that, Edward--grant it privately, anyway. For six
months, now, the village has been its own proper self once more--honest,
narrow, self-righteous, and stingy."

"It is what he always called it, to the day of his death--said it right
out publicly, too."

"Yes, and he was hated for it."

"Oh, of course; but he didn't care. I reckon he was the best-hated man
among us, except the Reverend Burgess."

"Well, Burgess deserves it--he will never get another congregation here.
Mean as the town is, it knows how to estimate _him_. Edward, doesn't it
seem odd that the stranger should appoint Burgess to deliver the money?"

"Well, yes--it does. That is--that is--"

"Why so much that-_is_-ing? Would _you_ select him?"

"Mary, maybe the stranger knows him better than this village does."

"Much _that_ would help Burgess!"

The husband seemed perplexed for an answer; the wife kept a steady eye
upon him, and waited. Finally Richards said, with the hesitancy of one
who is making a statement which is likely to encounter doubt,

"Mary, Burgess is not a bad man."

His wife was certainly surprised.

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed.

"He is not a bad man. I know. The whole of his unpopularity ha