nything just at
present."

CHAPTER XXXII

BROUGHT TO TERMS--CONCLUSION

They had to make one change of cars and then take a stage running to
Oakdale, which was but a small village four miles from Riverport. When
they arrived it was close on to midday.

Fortunately for them, one of the storekeepers of the village knew Mamie
Jackson's married sister and also knew Mamie, and he told them where to
go. It was a dilapidated cottage on the outskirts, surrounded by a
garden filled mostly with weeds.

"Not very thrifty people, that is certain," was Mr. Bartlett's comment.

"I think I shall know the servant if I see her," said Randy.

They paused at the gate and saw the two sisters near the side porch.
One was on a bench shelling peas and the other was lolling in a
hammock. Each looked very untidy and both wore wrappers that were full
of holes.

"That is the servant," said Randy, pointing to the person in the
hammock. "And see, she has some papers in her hands!"

"Step behind the wellhouse," said Mr. Bartlett, and this both of them
quickly did.

"Well, go ahead and read the papers, Mamie," said the woman on the
bench.

"Ain't no use, Sarah, I can't make head nor tail of 'em," answered
Mamie Jackson.

"What do you suppose makes 'em so valuable?"

"I don't know. But I do know the Bangses don't want that Mr. Bartlett
to get hold of 'em."

"I think you made a good bargain with the Bangses--that is, if they pay
up."

"I'll make 'em pay. Oh, Mrs. Bangs was scart, I could see it." Mamie
Jackson laughed shrilly. "And to think she was going to discharge me!"

"Well, I guess you gave her a piece of your mind."

"So I did. She is too stuck-up to live," went on the former servant
girl. "When I get my money I'm going to have a fine dress too--and I'll
buy you one, Sarah."

"Oh, Mamie, will you? I want a blue silk so!"

"I'm going to have a green silk, and a parasol to match, and then--Oh,
dear! look at them bees!" And with a shriek Mamie Jackson threw up her
arms and sprang out of the hammock.

For the moment the papers were forgotten, and quick to take advantage
of the situation, Randy darted forward and secured them. Then he turned
the documents over to Philip Bartlett.

"Who are you?" demanded the woman of the cottage, rising in alarm.

"It's that Mr. Bartlett himself!" shrieked Mamie Jackson, forgetting
all about the two bees that had disturbed her, and which had now flown
away. "Oh, how did you get