ve holes chopped through the ice, and a line set in each,
baited with a live minnow. This line was attached to a strong, limber
switch of birch, set up slant-wise over the hole, with the butt stuck
fast in a hole chopped in the ice and banked with snow. And this switch
flew a little streamer of coloured calico; so that Tim had only to see
the streamer bobbing up and down, at any distance, to know that there
was a pickerel fast on the hook.

He had famous sport there for ten days or more, for the fish were
hungry, and bigger ones came to the bait than in summer. Every third day
he went back in to Benton with his catch, which he had kept packed in
snow, sold them at the market, and was fairly rolling in wealth; and
when, one afternoon, he hooked and landed an eight-pound fish, and
travelled to town with it, and saw it set up in the market, with a sign
on it to the effect that it had been caught by Timothy Reardon of
Benton, he was the proudest boy to be found anywhere.

Then, just following Christmas, there was a glorious dinner up at the
Ellison farm for Henry Burns and his friends, in honour of Little Bess.
Tim got an invitation to that, too, through his loyal friends, Henry
Burns and Jack Harvey; and he and Joe Warren ate more than any four
others, and Young Joe, who had absconded with the most of a huge mince
pie, left over from the dinner, was found afterward groaning on the
kitchen sofa, and had to be dosed with ginger and peppermint, so that he
could partake of cornballs and maple candy later on.

And there was Bess Ellison--Bess Thornton no longer--looking remarkably
pretty and uncommonly mischievous, dressed no more in dingy gingham, but
in the best Mrs. Ellison could buy and make up for her; and she held out
her hand to Henry Burns and took him in to Mrs. Ellison, who said
something to him that made him come very near blushing, and nearly lose
his customary self-control.

There was Benny Ellison, also, who was dragged in by Bess, and made to
shake hands with Henry Burns, and call old scores off; so that even he
warmed into enthusiasm, and enjoyed himself with the others.

Then, somewhere about that time, there was a lawyer's visit to the Half
Way House, where there were certain papers drawn up, and signed by
Granny Thornton, with a trembling hand; which made it sure that Little
Bess would no more be uncertain of her home and her parentage, but would
remain where she belonged, up at the big farmhouse.

So t