ut he found no more.

"And to think of him burrowin' there in the bricks," marveled Hannah,
"and him that weak a child could push him over."

"Ah!" said Kenny, "but his will was strong."

He counted the money with trembling fingers and a smile, curiously
pleased and tender, and declared his belief that the doctor was right.
The ragged hoarding--he shivered slightly with revulsion as he touched
a tattered bill--represented the rest, residue and remainder of Adam's
wealth wheresoever situate. And thanks to Hughie's inspiration the
executor had found it.

"Four thousand dollars!" he announced at last in a voice of
disappointment.

"And a lucky thing," said Hughie with an air of pride, "that I thought
of the fireplace. For it might have laid there buried for the rest of
time."

"Four thousand dollars!" gasped Hannah in a reverential voice. "Four
thousand dollars! Well, Mr. O'Neill, it may not be much, as you seem
to think after all the dots you and Hughie have been a-diggin', but I
say it's a lot. It ought to buy the child all the frocks and teachers
in New York."

"It will see her through the year," said Kenny.

Joan's eyes widened.

"It would see me through a decade!" she exclaimed.

Kenny smiled.

CHAPTER XXVIII

KENNY'S WARD

Peace came mercifully to Craig farm with the finding of Adam's money.

"Toby," Joan whispered to the cat, her soft cheek pressed against his
fur, "I'm going away. And I can't believe it! I can't! I can't! I
can't!"

"Toby will miss you," said Hannah. "And so will I. And so will Hughie
and Hetty." She cleared her throat. "As for Mr. O'Neill, Toby won't
be likely to miss him at all. He's stepped too many inches off his
tail. Hughie thinks it must be paralyzed. I never saw Mr. O'Neill
headin' for a new dot but what I knew Toby would be sure to stick his
tail in the way and start a row."

Joan's face clouded.

"Oh, Hannah, if only I knew where Donald is!"

Hannah sighed.

"I wish you did, dear."

"It seems so dreadful with Uncle gone and everything changed. And
Donald doesn't even know. Think, Hannah, I may pass him in the train."

"You may," said Hannah. "And then again you mayn't."

"What if he comes home? What if he writes? It seems that I just
should be here."

"If he writes, I'll send the letter. And if he comes, Hughie can ride
down and telegraph you word."

"It's snowing," exclaimed Joan at the kitchen window. "Harder and
harder. O