ready mentioned, Gregory Wilkinson had a way of
always doing just the things which nobody expected him to do.

He had settled back into his ordinary manner by morning; at least he was
not much queerer than usual, and bade us good-bye cheerily at the Lewes
railway station. I had hired a light wagon and had driven him over in
time for the early train, bringing Susan along, so that she might see
the last of him. What with all three of us, his trunk and valise, and
the churn-wash-boiler, we had a wagon-load.

Susan was horrified at the thought of his giving the churn-wash-boiler
to the asylum. "Even if they only are allowed to use it as a
wash-boiler," she argued, earnestly, "think what dreadful ideas of
untidiness it will put into those destitute red Indian children's
heads!--ideas," she went on, "which will only tend to make them disgrace
instead of doing credit to the position of easy affluence to which your
legacy will lift them when they return to their barbaric wilds. If
you _must_ give it to them, at least conceal from them--I beg of you,
conceal from them--the fatal fact that it ever was meant to be a churn
too."

Gregory Wilkinson promised Susan that he would conceal this fact from
the destitute red Indian children; and then the train started, and he
and the churn-wash-boiler were whisked away. We really were very sorry
to part with him.

V.

Two or three days later I happened to meet Old Jacob as I was coming
away from the post-office in Lewes, and I was both pained and surprised
to perceive that the old man was partially intoxicated. When he caught
sight of me he came at me with such a lurch that had I not caught him
by the arm he certainly would have fallen to the ground. At first he
resented this friendly act on my part, but in a moment he forgot his
anger and insisted upon shaking hands with me with most energetic
warmth. Then he swayed his lips up to my ear, and asked in a hoarse
whisper if that old cousin chap of mine had got home safely the night
before; and wanted to know, with a most mysterious wink, if things was
all right _now_.

I was grieved at finding Old Jacob in this unseemly condition, and I
also was ruffled by his very rude reference to my cousin. I endeavored
to disengage my hand from his, and replied with some dignity that Mr.
Wilkinson at present was in New York, whither he had returned several
days previously. But Old Jacob declined to relinquish my hand, and,
with more mysterio