ousand dollars, a little more than half its real value.

From that time until spring opened, all remained quiet. Then began the
busy hum of preparation, and great things for our town foreshadowed
themselves. A hundred men went to work on the site chosen for a new
mill, digging, blasting, and hauling; while carpenters and masons
were busy in and around the old mansion, with a view to its thorough
renovation, as the future residence of Mr. Ralph Dewey. That gentleman
was on the ground, moving about with a self-sufficient air, and giving
his orders in a tone of authority that most of the work people felt to
be offensive.

The antiquated furniture in the Allen House, rich though it was in style
and finish, would not suit our prospective millionaire, and it was all
sent to auction. From the auctioneers, it was scattered among the town's
people, who obtained some rare bargains. An old French secretary came
into my possession, at the cost of ten dollars--the original owner could
not have paid less than a hundred. It was curiously inlaid with satin
wood, and rich in quaint carvings. There seemed to be no end to the
discoveries I was continually making among its intricate series of
drawers, pigeon holes, slides, and hidden receptacles. But some one
had preceded me in the examination, and had removed all the papers and
documents it contained. It flashed across my mind, as I explored the
mazes of this old piece of furniture, that it might contain, in some
secret drawer, another will. This thought caused the blood to leap along
my veins, my cheeks to burn, and my hands to tremble. I renewed the
examination, at first hurriedly; then with order and deliberation,
taking out each drawer, and feeling carefully all around the cavity
left by its removal, in the hope of touching some hidden spring. But the
search was fruitless. One drawer perplexed me considerably. I could not
pull it clear out, nor get access above or below to see how closely
the various partitions and compartments came up to its sides, top, and
bottom. After working with it for some time, I gave up the search, and
my enthusiasm in this direction soon died out. I smiled to myself
many times afterwards, in thinking of the idle fancy which for a time
possessed me.

In May, the furnishing of the renovated house began. This took nearly
a month. Every thing was brought from New York. Car loads of enormous
boxes, bales, and articles not made up into packages, were constantly