ing pretty near the rocks when he gave us a lift."

Jake nodded. When their money was very low after the fire, Martin had
suggested an arrangement that had worked for the benefit of all. Jake
hoped his comrade would be satisfied with his vague assent, but doubted.

"Why did he help?" Jim resumed. "The profit he got wasn't worth his
bothering about."

"If you mean to know, I reckon he thought Carrie would like it."

"Ah," said Jim, frowning, "I suspected something like this! Well, we
owe Martin much, but I'd sooner not think we let him give us a lift for
your sister's sake. You ought to have refused."

"I didn't know. The thing's got obvious since."

"But you know now?"

"Yes," said Jake, "my notion is, Carrie could marry him when she liked."

"Do you think she sees it?"

Jake smiled. "Carrie's not a fool. If you and I see it, the thing is
pretty plain. All the same, I imagine she is quietly freezing him off."

Jim was conscious of a rather puzzling satisfaction. "Martin's a good
sort and he's rich; but there's no reason Carrie should take the first
good man who comes along," he said. "She ought to get the very best.
However, it's not my business and I don't know if it's yours."

"It's Carrie's," said Jake, rather dryly. "She's generally able to
manage her affairs. In fact, I allow she was successful when she
managed ours----"

He stopped, for the door opened and Carrie came out. She held a
newspaper and looked excited.

"You had better read this advertisement, Jim," she said.

Jim saw the newspaper was printed at Montreal two years before. He
glanced at the place Carrie indicated, started, and then looked
straight in front.

"How did you get the thing?" he asked after a moment or two.

"Mother bought some old paper for packing. She took this piece just
now to light the stove and saw the notice. But are you the man they
want?"

"Yes," said Jim, quietly. "Franklin Dearham was my father."

Jake picked up the newspaper and they were silent for a few moments.
Then Carrie asked: "What are you going to do about it?"

"To begin with, I'll write to the lawyers at Montreal," said Jim, who
knitted his brows. "After that I don't know. The advertisement is
cautious, but it looks as if Joseph Dearham was dead. I don't think my
father expected to inherit his property. It's puzzling."

"Was Joseph Dearham rich?" Jake asked.

"He had some land and money and the old house at Langrigg. I've