with
an old woolen coat. "I suppose I'll have to meet tricks with tricks,"
he muttered.

Returning to his own apartment, he lighted a fire in the stove and laid
upon the kindling blaze some dampened wood, then went out and quietly
hitched his horses to the wagon.

The pungent odor of smoke soon filled the house. The cover over the
pipe-hole in Mrs. Mumpson's room was not very secure, and thick volumes
began to pour in upon the startled widow. "Jane!" she shrieked.

If Jane was sullen toward Holcroft, she was furious at her mother, and
paid no heed at first to her cry.

"Jane, Jane, the house is on fire!"

Then the child did fly up the stairway. The smoke seemed to confirm
the words of her mother, who was dressing in hot haste. "Run and tell
Mr. Holcroft!" she cried.

"I won't," said the girl. "If he won't keep us in the house, I don't
care if he don't have any house."

"No, no, tell him!" screamed Mrs. Mumpson. "If we save his house he
will relent. Gratitude will overwhelm him. So far from turning us
away, he will sue, he will plead for forgiveness for his former
harshness; his home saved will be our home won. Just put our things in
the trunk first. Perhaps the house can't be saved, and you know we
must save OUR things. Help me, quick! There, there; now, now"--both
were sneezing and choking in a half-strangled manner. "Now let me lock
it; my hand trembles so; take hold and draw it out; drag it downstairs;
no matter how it scratches things!"

Having reached the hall below, she opened the door and shrieked for
Holcroft; Jane also began running toward the barn. The farmer came
hastily out, and shouted, "What's the matter?"

"The house is on fire!" they screamed in chorus.

To carry out his ruse, he ran swiftly to the house. Mrs. Mumpson stood
before him wringing her hands and crying, "Oh, dear Mr. Holcroft, can't
I do anything to help you? I would so like to help you and--"

"Yes, my good woman, let me get in the door and see what's the matter.
Oh, here's your trunk. That's sensible. Better get it outside," and
he went up the stairs two steps at a time and rushed into his room.

"Jane, Jane," ejaculated Mrs. Mumpson, sinking on a seat in the porch,
"he called me his good woman!" But Jane was busy dragging the trunk
out of doors. Having secured her own and her mother's worldly
possessions, she called, "Shall I bring water and carry things out?"

"No," he replied, "not yet. There's something the