wspaper and Fourth of July orations. It was plain
that the successful issue of the long process would make the heirs of
the late Malachi Withers possessors of an ample fortune, and it was also
plain that the firm of Penhallow and Bradshaw were like to receive, in
such case, the largest fee that had gladdened the professional existence
of its members.

Mr. Penhallow had his book open before him, but his thoughts were
wandering from the page. He was thinking of his absent partner, and the
probable results of his expedition. What would be the consequence if all
this property came into the possession of Silence Withers? Could she
have any liberal intentions with reference to Myrtle Hazard, the young
girl who had grown up with her, or was the common impression true, that
she was bent on endowing an institution, and thus securing for herself a
favorable consideration in the higher courts, where her beneficiaries
would be, it might be supposed, influential advocates? He could not help
thinking that Mr. Bradshaw believed that Myrtle Hazard would eventually
come to a part at least of this inheritance. For the story was, that he
was paying his court to the young lady whenever he got an opportunity,
and that he was cultivating an intimacy with Miss Cynthia Badlam.
"Bradshaw wouldn't make a move in that direction," Mr. Penhallow said to
himself, "until he felt pretty sure that it was going to be a paying
business. If he was only a young minister now, there'd be no difficulty
about it. Let any man, young or old, in a clerical white cravat, step up
to Myrtle Hazard, and ask her to be miserable in his company through
this wretched life, and Aunt Silence would very likely give them her
blessing, and add something to it that the man in the white cravat would
think worth even more than that was. But I don't know what she'll say to
Bradshaw. Perhaps he'd better have a hint to go to meeting a little more
regularly. However, I suppose he knows what he's about."

He was thinking all this over when a visitor was announced, and Mr.
Byles Gridley entered the study.

"Good evening, Mr. Penhallow," Mr. Gridley said, wiping his forehead.
"Quite warm, isn't it, this evening?"

"Warm!" said Mr. Penhallow, "I should think it would freeze pretty thick
to-night. I should have asked you to come up to the fire and warm
yourself. But take off your coat, Mr. Gridley,--very glad to see you.
You don't come to the house half as often as you come to the off