,--the blessed end o' the secrecy,
an' the weary struggle o' keepin' me gineral's nose to the grindstone,
and now to leave go? Not while Cleena Keegan draws a free breath, an'
can handle a silly gossoon, like him yon."

From the first it had been a strange and powerful influence that this
good woman exercised over the foundling she adopted, and fortunately his
imprisonment was not so very long, else it would have been impossible to
conceal it from the rest of the household; not one of whom did, however,
suspect such a proceeding.

When the object for which she had restrained him of his liberty seemed
quite gained, Cleena let Fayette go; and, oddly enough, after his
liberty was granted him, he no longer cared for it. He kept close to
Bareacres, bare no longer, but teeming with the rich vegetation
resulting from his own labor, guided by Frederic Kaye's trained
judgment. The summer had proved a most interesting as well as busy one
to both these gardeners. The results of their mutual labor were
harvested and stored for the family's winter use, and Fayette had
returned to the mill. Idleness, or the want of that regular employment
he had enjoyed, now reawoke the dark thoughts which had disturbed his
clouded brain during the time of his "retreat" under Cleena's compelling
will.

This day, when Amy watched her cousin through the glass partition, and
waited with Mary for Hallam to complete his own task in a room adjoining
the private office of Mr. Wingate, Fayette was hanging about the mill,
as if himself waiting for some one.

Amy called to him once, and received a surly answer:--

"I'll go when I get ready. I ain't hurting nobody--yet."

"Of course not, who'd suppose so? I'd think you'd like a run in the
woods after hours. There was a frost a few nights ago. There may be
hickory nuts to gather."

"Gather 'em, then, if you want 'em. I don't. I've got other fish to fry.
I'll fry 'em, too."

"Well, you're cross, 'Fayetty, me gineral.' I'll not wait much longer,
even for Hal. You can come home with him, and help him bring the
patterns he is to show father, please."

"I thought you wanted to see Mr. Wingate, too, Amy," observed Mary,
"about that legacy of yours. You're the queerest girl. Any other would
be wild to have things fixed, but you don't seem to care a bit."

"Why should I? We are very comfortable at 'Charity House.' Mrs. Burn,
dear Adam's daughter-in-law, has gone abroad again. If she had time,
she'd cheerful