ough Colonel Harrington had shamefully
neglected him, he would never dishonorably repudiate a claim of that
kind.

When Samuel Harrington died, his brother appeared, took possession of
the farm as only heir, and cruelly drove Mr. Adams and his child from
the place.

He tore up the written statement Adams gave him, ridiculed his claims,
and, no will being found, sold the place for a song and left Adams an
invalid pauper.

Adams had done Baker, or, as his real name was, Albert Baker Mills, a
great service once.

Baker, or Mills, supported Adams and his child for a year. Adams spent
all his time bemoaning his fate, and haunted the old farm in a search of
the will of Samuel Harrington.

One day he did not appear, nor the following. Early on the morning of
the third day he staggered into the house, weak and fainting. He was
taken down with a fever, was delirious for a week, and at the end of
that time died.

Just before his death he tried to tell something about the will. Baker
made out that he had found it, that it was at Pleasantville, nothing
more.

After his friend's death, Baker wrote a letter to Colonel Harrington.
He accused him of his dishonorable conduct, and threatened to publicly
expose him if he did not provide in some way for the little orphan,
Dorothy, for whom he had found a home with a poor relative.

A week later Colonel Harrington sought out Baker, told him he had
trumped up a charge against him that would land him in jail, which Baker
later discovered was the truth, and gave him twenty-four hours to leave
the country.

From that time the poor fellow was a fugitive, venturing to appear only
in disguise at Pleasantville. Adams, it seemed, had found the will and
had sent it to Pleasantville addressed to himself, not daring to face
the colonel with the important document in his possession, but never
living to carry out his plan.

In the settlement with Colonel Harrington, Baker had received a letter
exculpating him totally from the trumped up charge, and a check for five
thousand dollars, which money was now held in trust by a bank to provide
for little Dorothy's future.

Bart felt much gratified over the way all these tangled strands in the
warp and woof of his young life had been straightened out, but he
experienced a final blessing that filled him with unutterable joy and
gratefulness.

A week previous his father had returned from a month's treatment by a
city expert oculist.

Robert Sti