t every turn."

"Well, you go on an' tell her I've got home," was the request of the
son. "Tell 'er I want to see 'er, too, an' that right off. You may tell
'er I'm loaded for bear--that I've heard about the way she's been going
on with Alf Henley behind my back, an' that a day of reckoning has
arrived. It's been delayed, but it's here."

"All right," old Wrinkle said, gravely, "that's the best way. You are
comin' to yore senses, Dick. It wouldn't be natural for you to let a
fine place an' a little money scare the life out of you. It's lucky Alf
ain't here. I don't think he'll give you any trouble, though. Some
thought Het's good luck would spoil 'im, but, if I'm any judge, he seems
sorter 'shamed about it. He hain't been here but once, an' then acted
like a fish out o' water. He's a money-maker, an' too live a chap to
want to put on a dead man's shoes. You've come in good time, an' if Het
will let you stay you'll be in clover the rest o' yore days. Between you
an' Alf I naturally favor _you_, of course. Me 'n yore Ma felt all right
here, but we _did_ have a shaky sort o' claim, you'll admit, bein' akin
to the fountain-head in sech a roundabout way, an' with Alf Henley's
name in the pot, too. Well, I'll be goin'. Watch the back porch, an' if
you see me wave my hat up and down, this way, you come right on. If I
was to wave it to one side, like this--but never mind; we'll do the best
we kin."

"All right," agreed Dick. "I'll go pick me some ripe peaches. The very
sight of 'em makes my mouth water."

CHAPTER XL

One clear, warm evening three days later, on his return to his lonely
house, Henley went into the kitchen and prepared his simple meal, and,
after eating it, he went to his room to get his pipe and tobacco for a
smoke. He had no sooner entered the room than he noticed that it had
undergone a change. Some one had taken the white lace curtains from his
wife's room and put them up over his windows. Pictures in frames which
had been ill-placed in the parlor now hung by his bed and over the
mantelpiece. A neat-colored rug from Mrs. Henley's room ornamented the
floor, and on it stood a table from the hall, holding the family Bible,
an album of photographs, some other books from the parlor, and a vase
containing fresh roses. The open fireplace was filled with evergreens,
and the rough, brick hearth had been whitewashed, the lime giving out a
cool, pungent odor.

"She done it!" he exclaimed. "Nobody else wou