Wingate wanted the
beast, the man Wingate should have him. Anyway, there he stands, brayin'
his head off in the 'Supe's' stable, in trust for the old man'll never
bestride him. Nobody rides him at all, Miss Amy says; yet here's me
gineral heart-broke for him; an' the cripple goin' afoot; an' all them
little Metcalfs envyin' an' covetin'; an' all because a man who's word
is law said he'd take him for rent an' just kept him, whether or no. But
a good job it was when Mister Fred come home, with money for rent an' a
few trifles, but not much besides. Well, where's the need? Eight dollars
a week is Miss Amy's wage now, God bless her! an' Master Hal's nigh the
same,--let alone them bit pictures the master's be's doin' constant.
Mister Fred's the knack o' sellin' 'em too. Well, if the mistress could
see--and hark, me fathers! What's that?"

Down in the fragrant glen and on the little island the hungry
"Ardsleyites" waited long for the promised supper; and up on Bareacre
knoll things were happening that would provide another sensation for the
little town, quiet now since the Christmas horsewhipping episode.

CHAPTER XXVII.

A DOUBLE INHERITANCE IN A SINGLE DAY.

Almost before she asked it, Cleena answered her own question.

"The powder! the powder! It's Fayetty a-meddlin'! Oh, is he killed, the
witless gossoon?"

Then she turned toward the stairway leading into the cellar, and from
whence she had heard the dull roar, and now imagined she saw smoke as
she certainly did smell suggestive fumes. She needed not to descend,
however, for at the stair's head the lad rushed against her, bruising
her with something hard and heavy that he carried, and thus dispelling
her first fear of his personal injury.

"Fayetty--Fayetty! Hold by! What's amiss? What's--"

He deposited a box upon the kitchen table, plump in the tray of
biscuits, and catching Cleena about the waist began to execute a
grotesque dance with her for helpless partner. After a moment she was
able to extricate herself from his frantic clutch and to demand
sternly:--

"Ye omahaun, are ye gone daft?"

"It's money, Cleena Keegan! _It's money!_ The cellar's full of it!
Money, money, money! Chests full, cellars full--oh! oh! oh!"

Then did her eye fall upon the box and the spot where it rested, and
indignation seized her soul. With one grasp of her strong hands she
flung it to the floor, where it fell heavily, cracked, and burst
asunder.

Both were then too a