ated the note at an Indianapolis bank. Rita's
marriage would settle the Williams theft, but the matter of the forgery
called for immediate adjustment in cash. Billy refused the loan; but he
gave Tom fifty dollars and advised him to leave the state.

"If you don't go," said Billy, savagely, "you will be sent to the
penitentiary. Rita can't marry every one you have stolen from. What did
you do with the money you stole from me--Dic's money? Tell me, or I'll
call an officer at once. I'll arrest you myself and commit you. I'm a
justice of the peace. Now confess, you miserable thief."

Tom turned pale, and, seeing that Billy was in dreadful earnest, began
to cry: "There was five of us in that job," he whispered, "and, Mr.
Little, I never got none of the money. Con Gagen and Mike Doles got it
all. I give them the sacks to keep for a while after I left the store.
They promised to divide, but they run away soon afterwards, and of
course we others were afeared to peach. I didn't know you knowed it. Con
Gagen put me up to it."

"Well, I do know it. I recognized you when you climbed out the window,
and did not shoot you because you were Rita's brother. I said nothing
of the robbery for the same reason, but I made a mistake. Leave my
store. Get out of the state at once. If you are here Christmas Day, I'll
send you where you belong."

Tom took the fifty dollars and the advice; and the next day--the day
before Christmas, the day set for Rita's wedding--Sukey's father entered
Billy's store, as I have already told you, in great agitation.

After Yates had talked to Billy for three or four minutes, the latter
hurriedly closed the store door, donned the Brummel coat, and went
across the road to the inn where the Indianapolis coach was waiting, and
took his place.

At six o'clock that evening Dic arrived at Billy Little's store from his
southern expedition. Finding the store door locked, he got the key from
the landlord of the inn, in whose charge Billy had left it, went to the
post-office, and rejoiced to find a letter from Rita. He eagerly opened
it--and rode home more dead than alive. Rita's wedding would take place
that night at eight o'clock. The thing was hopeless. He showed the
letter to his mother, and asked that he might be left alone with his
sorrow. Mrs. Bright kissed him and retired to her bed in the adjoining
room, leaving Dic sitting upon the hearth log beside the fire.

Dic did not blame Rita. He loved her more dearly