al Petroleum Company, and Mr. Belcher's name was not
among the signatures of the officers.

"Well, that beats me!" exclaimed Miss Butterworth. "What do you suppose
the old snake wants now?"

"That's just what I say--just what I say," responded Mrs. Snow.
Goodness knows, if it's worth anything, we need it; but what _does_ he
want?"

"You'll find out some time. Take my word for it, he has a large axe to
grind."

"I think," said Mr. Snow judicially, "that it is quite possible that we
have been unjust to Mr. Belcher. He is certainly a man of generous
instincts, but with great eccentricities. Before condemning him _in
toto_ (here Mr. Snow opened his bridge to let out the charity that was
rising within him, and closed it at once for fear Miss Butterworth would
get in a protest), let us be sure that there is a possible selfish
motive for this most unexpected munificence. When we ascertain the true
state of the case, then we can take things as they air. Until we have
arrived at the necessary knowledge, it becomes us to withhold all severe
judgments. A generous deed has its reflex influence; and it may be that
some good may come to Mr. Belcher from this, and help to mold his
character to nobler issues. I sincerely hope it may, and that we shall
realize dividends that will add permanently to our somewhat restricted
sources of income."

Miss Butterworth sat during the speech, and trotted her knee. She had no
faith in the paper, and she frankly said so.

"Don't be fooled," she said to Mrs. Snow. "By and by you will find out
that it is all a trick. Don't expect anything. I tell you I know Robert
Belcher, and I know he's a knave, if there ever was one. I can feel
him--I can feel him now--chuckling over this business, for business it
is."

"What would you do if you were in my place?" inquired Mrs. Snow. "Would
you send it back to him?"

"Yes, or I'd take it with a pair of tongs and throw it out of the
window. I tell you there's a nasty trick done up in that paper; and if
you're going to keep it, don't say anything about it."

The family laughed, and even Mr. Snow unbent himself so far as to smile
and wipe his spectacles. Then the little tailoress went away, wondering
when the mischief would reveal itself, but sure that it would appear in
good time. In good time--that is, in Mr. Belcher's good time--it did
appear.

To comprehend the excitement that followed, it must be remembered that
the people of Sevenoaks had the most