ot come here to board for the
express purpose of continuing his mysterious search at the back of the
farm without arousing either objection or comment.

He watched Mr. Colesworth, too. There could be no doubt of that. When the
old geologist started out with his hammer and bag, the professor trailed
him. But the two never went together.

Mr. Colesworth often brought in curious specimens of rock; but he said
frankly that he had come across no mineral of value on the farm in
sufficient quantities to promise the owner returns for mining the ore.

Aunt Jane, too, had said that the rocks back of Hillcrest had been
examined by geologists time and again. There was no mineral treasure on
the farm. _That_ was surely not the secret of the rocks--and it wasn't
mineral Professor Spink was after.

But the week passed without 'Phemie's having studied out a single sensible
idea about the matter. Friday was a very hard and busy day for the
girls. It was the big baking day of the week. They made a fire twice in
the big brick oven, and left two pots of beans in it over night.

"But there's enough in the larder to last over Sunday, thanks be!" sighed
'Phemie, when she and Lyddy crept to bed.

"I hope so. What a lot they do eat!" said Lyddy, sleepily.

"A double baking of bread. A dozen apple pies; four squash pies; and an
extra lemon-meringue for Sunday dinner. Oh, dear, Lyd! I wish you'd let
me go and ask Maw Pritchett for her Dutch oven."

"No," replied the older sister, drowsily. "We will not risk a refusal.
Besides, Mr. Somers said something about an old lady over the
ridge--beyond the chapel--who is selling out--or being sold out--Mrs.
Harrison. Maybe she has something of the kind that she will sell cheap."

"Well--that--old--brick--oven--is--kill--ing--me!" yawned 'Phemie, and
then was sound asleep in half a minute.

The next morning, however, the girls hustled about as rapidly as possible
and when Lucas drove up with young Mr. Colesworth they were ready to take
a drive with the young farmer over the ridge.

"We want to see what this Mrs. Harrison has to sell," explained Lyddy to
Lucas. "You see, we need some things."

"All right," he agreed. "I'll take ye. But whether the poor old critter
is let to sell anything private, or not, I dunno. They sold her real
estate last week, and this sale of household goods is to satisfy the
judgment. The farm wasn't much, and it went for a song. Poor old critter!
She is certainly gettin