ain there that afternoon, he said, and send a
servant over to be in the house during the night.

'She is very sick,' he said; 'but it does not seem as if her sickness
could be caused wholly by that bruise on her head. Do you think Peterkin
struck her?'

'She says so,' was Mrs. Crawford's reply, 'though why he should do it, I
cannot guess.'

Then she added that a servant would not be necessary, as Harold would be
home by seven.

'But he may not,' Frank replied. 'Squire Harrington came at two, and
reported that the suit was not called until so late that they would not
probably get through with the witnesses to-day, so Hal may not be here,
and I will send Rob anyway.'

On his way home Frank, too, looked in at the Tramp House, and saw the
broken-down table, and hunted for the missing leg, and with Tom
concluded that something unusual had taken place there, though he could
not guess what.

That evening, as Jerrie grew more and more restless and talkative, Mrs.
Crawford listened anxiously for the train, and when it came, waited and
watched for Harold, but watched in vain, for Harold did not come.
Several of her neighbors, however, did come; those who had gone to the
city out of curiosity to attend the lawsuit, and 'see old Peterkin
squirm and hear him swear;' and could she have looked into the houses in
the village that night, she would have heard some startling news, for
almost before the train rolled away from the platform, everybody at or
near the station had been told that Mrs. Tracy's diamonds, lost nine or
ten years ago, had been found in Harold Hastings' pocket, and that he
was under arrest.

Such news travels fast, and it reached the Park House just as the family
were finishing their late dinner.

'I told you so! I always thought he was guilty, or knew something about
them,' Mrs. Frank exclaimed, with a look of exultation on her face as
she turned to her husband. 'What do you think now of your fine young
man, who has been hanging around here after your daughter until she is
half-betwaddled after him?'

Frank's face was very grave as he answered, decidedly:

'I do not believe it. Harold Hastings never took your diamonds.'

'How came he by them, then?' she asked, in a loud, angry voice.

'I don't know,' her husband replied; 'there is some mistake; it will be
cleared in time. But keep it from Maude; I think the news would kill
her.'

Meantime Tom had sat with his brows knit together, as if intently
thin