ding it, when my father uttered a low moan and tumbled
off his chair to the floor.

"Will Thompson gave a wild cry and knelt beside him.

"'My God! he's dead, Bob,--he's dead!--and you've killed him with your
good news!' he screamed, already raving; and then Old Hucks ran in just
in time to prevent the madman from throttling West, for his fingers were
even then twined around Bob's throat. There was a desperate struggle,
and I remember that, scared as I was, I joined Thomas in trying to pull
Thompson off his prey. But suddenly old Will threw up his arms and
toppled backward, still raving like a demon, but unable to move his body
from the waist downward. West helped us to put him in bed, and said he
was paralyzed, which afterward proved to be the truth. Also, his mind
was forever gone; and I think it was father's death that did that,
rather than the loss of his money."

They were all staring, white-faced, at the speaker. Most of the mystery
was being cleared away; indeed, there was now little of mystery
remaining at all.

"West hurried after a doctor," continued Joe, who was almost as much
absorbed in his story as were his listeners, and spoke in a reflective,
musing way, "and he succeeded in finding one who was stopping for a few
days at the hotel. Poor Bob was very kind to us in our trouble, and I
never heard him mention a word about his own losses, which must have
been severe. After the funeral was over, and I found I had nothing to
inherit but the farm, I decided to go to the city and make my way there,
as I had long wished to do. West gave me a little money to start me on
my way, and the rest of my story is not very interesting to anybody.
Major Doyle knows something of it, after the time when I got through my
technical school by working as a servant to pay for my instruction. I'm
a failure in life, so far, young ladies; but if you'll not bear that
against me I'll try to do better in the future."

"Good!" cried the Major, approvingly, as he took the boy's left hand in
both his own and pressed it. "You're developing the right spirit,
Joseph, me lad, and we'll think no more about the sadness of the past,
but look forward to the joy of your future."

"Of course," said Patsy, nodding gravely; "Joe Wegg is bound to be a
great man, some day."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE LOCKED CUPBOARD.

Louise and Beth returned to the farm in dismal silence. Every prop had
been knocked from beneath their carefully erected temple o