ight out."

"He can't put me out before the three months are up," quavered the
widow.

"Yes, he can. We've been a-rummagin' where we'd no bizniss to be.
He's mad enough to do anything; he jes' looks awful; I'm afraid of him."

"Jane," said her mother plaintively, "I feel indisposed. I think I'll
retire."

"Yes, that's the way with YOU," sobbed the child. "You get me into the
scrape and now you retire."

Mrs. Mumpson's confidence in herself and her schemes was terribly
shaken. "I must act very discreetly. I must be alone that I may think
over these untoward events. Mr. Holcroft has been so warped by the
past female influences of his life that there's no counting on his
action. He taxes me sorely," she explained, and then ascended the
stairs.

"Oh! Oh!" moaned the child as she writhed on the floor, "mother aint
got no sense at all. What IS goin' to become of me? I'd ruther hang
about his barn than go back to Cousin Lemuel's or any other cousin's."

Spurred by one hope, she at last sprung up and went to the kitchen. It
was already growing dark, and she lighted the lamp, kindled the fire,
and began getting supper with breathless energy.

As far as he could discover, Holcroft was satisfied that nothing had
been taken. In this respect he was right. Mrs. Mumpson's curiosity
and covetousness were boundless, but she would not steal. There are
few who do not draw the line somewhere.

Having tried to put the articles back as they were before, he locked
them up, and went hastily down and out, feeling that he must regain his
self-control and decide upon his future action at once. "I will then
carry out my purposes in a way that will give the Weeks tribe no chance
to make trouble."

As he passed the kitchen windows he saw Jane rushing about as if
possessed, and he stopped to watch her. It soon became evident that
she was trying to get his supper. His heart relented at once in spite
of himself. "The poor, wronged child!" he muttered. "Why should I be so
hard on her for doing what she's been brought up to do? Well, well,
it's too bad to send her away, but I can't help it. I'd lose my own
reason if the mother were here much longer, and if I kept Jane, her
idiotic mother would stay in spite of me. If she didn't, there'd be
endless talk and lawsuits, too, like enough, about separating parent
and child. Jane's too young and little, anyway, to be here alone and
do the work. But I'm sorry for her, I declare I