nt in his companions' faces brought
him to himself.

"That is what I wanted," he said.

"I hopes it ish all right," urged the Jew. "The good gentleman is
satisfied!"

"Perfectly, perfectly! Now I want the bracelet! How much did you receive
on it?"

The old Jew's face changed at once.

"And I won't get my reward?" he faltered. "You will sheat a poor man's
out of his earnings."

"Who talks of cheating you," said Mr. Hollywell.

"I am ready to pay you," pursued Mr. Mellen; "I would rather give double
the price of the bracelet than not get it."

Mr. Hollywell made a sign of caution; such words would increase the old
rascal's cupidity to a height money could hardly satisfy, but they were
interrupted by a groan from the Jew.

"And it ish gone!" cried he; "and so leetle paid--so leetle paid. The
good gentleman would have given more."

"Gone!" repeated Mr. Mellen.

"Why didn't you say so?" asked Mr. Hollywell angrily. "It was only
yesterday you told me it was safe in your possession."

"Yes, yes, I knows, and so I had."

"Where is it, then?"

"The man came for it--he has brought his ticket, paid his money and took
the bracelet; I was out--my boy let him have it! Oh, my reward--my
reward!"

"Shut your foolish old mouth!" exclaimed Mr. Hollywell.

The old Jew sank into a chair, still groaning and lamenting, while the
money-lender turned to Mr. Mellen.

"What will you do now, sir?" he asked.

"Nothing."

He looked despondent now, though the fierce anger that had blazed in his
face at the first sight of the writing lighted it up still.

"I am perfectly satisfied," he continued. "I am much obliged to you for
your trouble."

"I am very sorry," Mr. Hollywell began, but Mellen checked him.

"It is just as well--don't be troubled."

He took out his pocket-book, laid down a bank note whose value made the
old Jew's eyes sparkle with avidity, and hurried out of the dark little
shop.

CHAPTER XLVII.

TEASING CONTINUALLY.

All the next day the house at Piney Cove was in confusion with guests
coming and going. This husband and wife were not once left alone.

Mrs. Harrington had come up to spend the day, and go out with them in
the evening, and Tom Fuller was at his post as usual, though he appeared
with a very blank face indeed.

"You look more like Don Quixote than ever," was Elsie's salutation, as
he entered the room, where she sat with Elizabeth and their guests.

"How do you do, Mr. Fuller?