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justly indignant.
“What are you doing there, Tommy?” he demanded, sternly.
Tommy looked up and answered with characteristic impudence:
“None of your business!”
“Stop hurting the cat!” said Andy, imperatively.
“Go on with your work and let me alone,” answered Tommy, preparing
to plunge the cat’s head into the trough once more.
Andy’s answer was to drop the ax and rush to the trough. Seizing the boy
by the collar, he forcibly took away the cat and said:
“You ought to be ashamed of your cruelty!
“How dare you touch me?” demanded Tommy, furiously, stamping his
foot.
“It doesn’t require much daring, you mischievous little scamp!” said
Andy.
“I’ll get my father to turn you away,” threatened Tommy.
“Just as you like,” said Andy, amused. “I am doing him a favor by
staying; and he knows it.”
“I’ll get him to give you a flogging!” said Tommy, finding that the first
threat had very little effect.
“If he would give you a sound whipping, it’s only what you deserve,”
said our hero, going back to his work.
“He wouldn’t whip me. My mother wouldn’t let him!” said Tommy.
Andy laughed. He was disposed to think that the boy was only telling the
truth, since Mrs. Brackett appeared to have her husband under her thumb, as
he had already found out.
Tommy felt outraged by the thought that his father’s hired boy had dared
to lay hands on him, and thirsted for revenge. If he had only been stronger
than Andy, our hero would have stood a chance of a thrashing then and
there; but, unfortunately for Tommy, his strength was not equal to his spirit.
“What shall I do?” he thought.
He waited till he got a few rods away, and picking up a pebble, threw it
at Andy. It whizzed within a foot of our hero’s face.
Andy looked up, and saw the boy laughing with evident enjoyment.
“Did you fire that stone, Tommy?” he asked.
 “Yes, I did.”
“What did you do it for?”
“I’ll do it again!”
And Tommy suited the action to the word.
Andy was upon him in a moment, and seized him as he was entering the
back door.
“Ma!” yelled Tommy, at the top of his voice. “Come here! Henry’s
murdering me!”
Mrs. Brackett rushed to the door, her hands covered with dough, and her
indignation was intense when she saw her darling in the grasp of her
husband’s hired boy.
“What’s all this?” she exclaimed. “Let go my child, you young ruffian!
How dare you?”
“Mrs. Brackett,” said Andy, “Tommy has been firing stones at me. If you
will make him stop, I shall let him alone.”
“You have no business to touch him, anyway! I’ll make you smart for
it!” exclaimed the angry woman. “I presume you are telling lies about my
poor child. Tell me all about it, Tommy. Did you fire a stone at him?”
“Yes; but he began it.”
“How did he begin it?”
“He took the cat away from me,” exclaimed the virtuous Tommy.
“Did you take the cat away from my boy?” demanded Mrs. Brackett, in a
tragical tone.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How dared you do it?”
“Because he was teasing it. If I had not interfered, he would have
drowned her. He was putting her head into the trough.”
“ ‘Tain’t so, ma! Don’t you believe him!” vociferated Tommy, with
unblushing falsehood.
“I don’t believe it,” said Mrs. Brackett, forcibly. “I know he is telling lies
about you, my angel!”
Andy was not in the least excited, but he was rather amused.
“You may believe it or not, Mrs. Brackett,” he said. “I only tell you that
it is so.”
 “Tain’t so! ’tain’t so!” yelled Tommy.
“Of course it isn’t,” said his mother. “I won’t believe any of that bad
boy’s lies. Go back to your work, you young brute; and take care how you
touch my darling boy again.”
“You had better advise him not to touch me again, Mrs. Brackett,” said
Andy.
And, without waiting for an answer, he went back to his work.
Not a word was said to Tommy about what he had done, and he was
emboldened to continue his persecutions.
Five minutes afterward, he went out into the yard again and shied a stone
at Andy’s head.
Our hero was prepared. He sprang for Tommy, seized him, and drawing
him to the trough, took a dipper of water, and dashed it into his face.
“The next time you’ll get something worse,” he said, coolly.
Tommy roared with anger and mortification, and again ran into the
house, to complain to his mother.
She came out like an avenging fury, and began to revile Andy, and
threaten all sorts of punishment when her husband got home.
“Do you expect me to stand still, and let Tommy throw stones at me?”
asked Andy.
“I didn’t throw a stone,” denied Tommy.
“Of course you didn’t, my angel!” said Mrs. Brackett. “Henry Miller,
when Mr. Brackett gets home, he shall whip you till you are black and
blue.”
“Mrs. Brackett,” said an indignant voice behind her, “you are blaming
the wrong boy. Tommy did throw stones at Henry, for I saw the whole
transaction from my window. Henry treated him just as he ought to be
treated. If he were my boy, I would give him a good, sound whipping.”
Knowing that Mr. Dodge had money to leave, Mrs. Brackett did not dare
to reply as she wished to do.
“So you turn against my poor boy, too,” she said.
“I tell the truth about him,” said the old man, disgusted. “Had he treated
me as he has Henry, I would make him suffer.”
Mrs. Brackett was white with anger, but she did not dare to show it.
 “Come into the house, Tommy,” she said. “It seems you have no friends
but your mother. Even your grandpa turns against you.”
“I thank Heaven he is not my grandson!” said Mr. Dodge, after mother
and child had left the scene. “Henry, don’t let that little rascal impose upon
you, or his mother either.”
“I won’t, sir,” assured Andy, firmly.
From that moment Mrs. Brackett positively hated Andy, and anxiously
sought for some means of revenge.
 CHAPTER XXXVI.

MR. BRACKETT’S DIPLOMACY.

Mrs. Brackett took the earliest opportunity of informing her husband

of the way in which Andy had abused poor Tommy, but he did not enter
wholly into her feeling of resentment, not being quite so blind to the faults
of his oldest cherub as Tommy’s mother.
He was still more disinclined to move in the matter when he learned that
his father-in-law had taken Andy’s part.
“We’ve got to move slow, wife,” he said, cautiously. “We don’t want to
stir up the old man.”
“Father ought to be ashamed to turn against his own grandson,” said
Mrs. Brackett, indignantly.
“If we come to that, Tommy isn’t exactly Mr. Dodge’s grandson.”
“Well, it’s the same thing,” persisted his wife. “He seems to think more
of this new boy than of poor Tommy.”
“It won’t do to make a fuss about it, Lucindy. We must be patient, and
humor the old man. He’s seventy-five years old, and can’t live much
longer.”
“That’s what you’ve been saying for the last five years,” grumbled Mrs.
Brackett. “I don’t see, for my part, but he’s likely to live till you and I are in
our graves.”
“Not as bad as that, Lucindy. I’m getting a little anxious to have him
make a will. I don’t want him to die till he’s left the property to us, safe and
sure.”
“It would go to us anyway, wouldn’t it, Jeremiah?”
“It ought to, but there’s those Eastern relations. They might claim it.”
“That would be shameful!” said Mrs. Brackett, warmly.
“So it would—so it would, Lucindy. I’ll tell you what, I’ll speak to the
old man about it this very day.”
“I wish you would.”
 “So you see we’d better not irritate him by scolding Henry.”
“I suppose you’re right, Jeremiah,” assented Mrs. Brackett, reluctantly;
“but I was in hopes you would give him a good flogging.”
“It wouldn’t be politic, Lucindy, just at this time.”
“Is he going to abuse my poor darling without anybody’s interfering?”
demanded Mrs. Brackett, discontentedly.
“No. I’ll speak to him about it.”
Accordingly, Mr. Brackett sought out Andy, and said:
“Henry, I hear there was some trouble this morning between you and
Tommy.”
“Yes, sir. Did Mrs. Brackett tell you about it?”
“Yes. She is very angry.”
“I think I have more reason to be angry, sir.”
“She says you dragged him into the house by the collar, and afterward
threw water in his face.”
“Did she tell you what Tommy did to me?” asked Andy.
“She said he was rather playful, and that you got mad.”
“He playfully fired stones at my head,” said Andy. “If he had hit me I
should have been severely hurt. I don’t like that kind of playfulness.”
“I know he is a mischievous boy. Still, you should remember that he is a
little boy, much younger and smaller than you are.”
“So I did, and for that reason I wouldn’t hurt him. I don’t think,”
continued Andy, “I could make up my mind to hurt a little boy. But I can’t
let him fire stones at me.”
“I guess there has been no harm done, but you must try not to provoke
Mrs. Brackett. She can’t see any fault in Tommy, though I am not so blind.”
“I certainly shall let him alone if he will let me alone, and I won’t hurt
him, at any rate. I will only defend myself if he tries to play any tricks on
me.”
Mr. Brackett seemed to be satisfied, and Andy was disposed to think
favorably of him, not being aware that he was moderate and reasonable
because he did not think it politic to be otherwise.
Just at this moment Mr. Dodge came out of the house, and Mr. Brackett
decided to attack him on the subject of the will.
 “How do you feel, father?” he inquired.
“Very well, thank you, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, rather surprised at his
son-in-law’s solicitude.
“You are remarkably well for a man of your age, as I was remarking ta
Lucindy yesterday. By the way, how old are you, father?”
“Seventy-five years last birthday,” answered the old man, “but I don’t
feel any older than I did fifteen years ago.”
“Just so! Still, you are older; but I suppose you’ve fixed things so you’ve
no worldly anxieties?”
“I think I’ve got enough to carry me through, Jeremiah.”
“Of course you have, father; and more, too. You can’t begin to spend
your income?”
This was said in an inquiring tone, but the old gentleman did not make
any reply.
“It’s only prudent to make your will, father, for, of course, a man of your
age may be cut off sudden. Death comes like a thief in the night,” added Mr.
Brackett, utilizing one of the few passages of Scripture with which he
happened to be acquainted.
“I dare say you are right, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, with a smile.
“You mustn’t think I am anxious on my own account,” said Mr. Brackett.
“Of course, money’s a consideration to me, and I’m willing to have you fix
things as you think best. But don’t you think you would feel better if you
had things all fixed straight and sure on paper?”
“Perhaps you are right, Mr. Brackett,” said his father-in-law, with the
same provoking smile, which Mr. Brackett was utterly unable to
understand.
“I feel kinder delicate about speaking of it,” pursued Mr. Brackett, “but I
thought I ought to do it. Folks are so apt to put off the important duty to the
last.”
“By the way, Jeremiah, have you made your will?” asked the old man.
“I?” ejaculated Mr. Brackett, in surprise.
“Yes.”
“No; I can’t say I have.”
 “You’d better think of it. You’re not as old as I am, but men younger
than you die every day.”
“You don’t think I’m looking poorly, do you?” queried Mr. Brackett,
nervously.
“Oh, no! And I hope I am not. Still, you may die before me.”
“That’s so, of course; but it ain’t hardly likely.”
“No; I hope you won’t. I hope you will live to be as old as I am.”
“I’ll tell you what, father,” said Brackett, cunningly, “I’ll make my will
if you make yours.”
“I’ll think of it, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, politely.
“Confound the old man! I can’t get anything out of him,” said Brackett
to himself. “I think he teases me on purpose. The idea of thinking he
doesn’t need to make a will because I don’t! One thing’s pretty certain,
though—he hasn’t made his will yet. If he should die without one, I will
prevent them Eastern relations from hearing of it, if I can. I ought to have
that property—and I mean to.”
Mr. Dodge smiled to himself when his son-in-law left him.
“Mr. Brackett thinks he is shrewd,” he said to himself, “but his
shrewdness and cunning are of a very transparent character. What would he
say if he knew that I have already made my will, and that his name is not
mentioned in it? What would he say if he knew that my chief heir is at
present in his employ, working for fifty cents a week? I suspect there would
be a storm—in fact, a hurricane.
“Henry,” said the old man, to our hero, “has Mr. Brackett spoken to you
about your little trouble with Tommy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was he angry?”
“No, he spoke very reasonably. I have no fault to find with what he
said.”
“He isn’t quite such a fool as his wife, nor is he as ill-tempered. If I had
given the Bracketts all my property, reserving none to myself, I should be in
a bad position. Fortunately I was saved from such folly.”
“It strikes me,” reflected Mrs. Brackett, looking out of the kitchen
window, “that father’s pretty thick with that boy of ours. If I had my way,
I’d send him packing. He’s a low, artful boy, and if I were Mr. Brackett, I
would send him off, if I had to do his work myself.”
Jeremiah Brackett, however, was by no means of his wife’s opinion. He
appreciated the fact that Henry Miller—to use the name by which he knew
him—was more faithful and a more steady worker than any of his
predecessors, and he did not mean to part with him for any light cause, his
wife’s prejudices to the contrary, notwithstanding.
Half an hour later, Andy was destined to a considerable surprise.
 CHAPTER XXXVII.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE TURNS UP.

“Boy, does Mr. Brackett live here?”

Andy looked up from his work, and saw standing at a little distance a
man, apparently about thirty years of age.
He started in amazement, for he had no difficulty in recognizing the
younger of the two highwaymen who had so nearly robbed him of the
money intrusted to him by the Misses Peabody. There are cases of
remarkable resemblance, but Andy was a close observer, and he was
satisfied this was not such a case, but that the companion of Mike Hogan
stood before him.
Owing to his surprise, he delayed answering the question.
“Well, boy, what are you gaping at?” demanded the young man,
impatiently. “Did you hear my question?”
“Excuse me, sir! Yes, Mr. Brackett does live here.”
“Is Mrs. Brackett at home?” continued the newcomer.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, pilot me in, then,” said the other, carelessly. “Are you Brackett’s
hired boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, it seems to me he might get a smarter one.”
“I was smart enough to foil you once, Mr. Highwayman,” thought Andy;
but he only answered, “Very likely he might.”
“Come, that’s candid! It makes me think better of you. Go ahead, and I’ll
follow.”
“What does this robber want of Mrs. Brackett, I wonder?” thought Andy.
“Ought I to warn her of his character?”
Mrs. Brackett was ironing in the kitchen, when Andy entered, followed
by the stranger. She was not feeling very good-natured, and jumped to the
conclusion that the intruder was a peddler.
 “Henry,” said she, sharply, “what makes you bring a peddler into the
house? You know I never have anything to do with them.”
Andy was going to plead in excuse that the stranger had inquired
particularly for her, but he was spared the trouble.
“I must say, Lucinda,” said the young man, bursting out laughing, “that
you give a curious reception to your only brother.”
“George, is it really you?” exclaimed Mrs. Brackett, laying down her
flatiron, in surprise and joy.
“I reckon it is. How are you, old girl?”
Mrs. Brackett, who was really attached to her younger brother, advanced
eagerly and imprinted a kiss on his cheek, and began to express her wonder
at his sudden appearance.
Andy, concluding that his presence was no longer required, left the
kitchen, and returned to work.
He, too, was full of surprise.
“It is strange enough that the man who tried to rob me should be the
brother of my employer’s wife,” he soliloquized. “Of course, she can’t be
aware of his mode of life.”
Was Andy called upon to inform her? He decided not, but if this man
took up his residence for any length of time at Mr. Brackett’s house, he
would feel compelled to watch him narrowly, lest he should fall into his old
dishonest practices.
“He didn’t recognize me,” Andy reflected, with satisfaction. “If he had,
he might have tried to do me an injury lest I should betray him.”
Meanwhile, the brother and sister were chatting together in the kitchen.
“What have you been doing, George?” asked Mrs. Brackett. “Why is it
that you have been silent for so long?”
“Oh, I’ve been drifting about, Lucinda!” said her brother.
“But haven’t you been engaged in any business?” asked his sister.
“Oh, well, part of the time I’ve been a collector,” said George, with a
quizzical smile.
He did not care to explain that his collecting had been from unoffending
travelers, nor did he care to mention that he had served a three-years’ term
at Sing Sing prison, under an assumed name.
 “It must be eight years since we met, George,” went on Mrs. Brackett.
“Is it as long as that?” said George, indifferently.
“Yes, I know it is, for my dear little Tommy was a baby, and now he is a
fine boy of eight years.”
“Inherits your sweet disposition, Lucinda, I suppose,” said her brother,
banteringly.
“You always would have your joke, George,” said Mrs. Brackett,
coloring and looking annoyed.
“Have you got any more children, Lucinda?”
“Yes—three more.”
“They must be a great nuisance,” said her brother, shrugging his
shoulders.
“You were a nuisance when you were a small boy,” said his sister, with
spirit.
“I dare say I was. Well, how are you and Brackett getting along?”
“We ain’t getting rich,” said Mrs. Brackett, with a critical glance at her
brother, as if to determine whether he was likely to want assistance.
He seemed very well dressed, and she hoped his circumstances were
good, for, though she was attached to him, she was, on the whole, more
attached to her money.
“You seem to be pretty prosperous,” said George.
“Oh, yes! We have enough to eat, and drink and wear, but we can’t save
any money.”
Mrs. Brackett conveniently forgot the five hundred dollars which she
had in the savings bank.
“Is the old man Dodge still living?”
“He’s living, and likely to live,” said his sister, in a dissatisfied tone.
“Must be most a hundred, isn’t he?”
“He’s seventy-five, and can eat as much as a young man.”
“How about the property? Is it all fixed right?” asked her brother, now
showing some genuine interest.
“He gave Jeremiah the farm some years ago, but he won’t give anything
else, and we have to give him his board out of it.”
 “Has he got much money besides?”
“He must have somewhere from ten to fifteen thousand dollars.”
“Whew! that’s a pile! It will go to you in the end, won’t it?”
“I don’t know; it ought to. But he’s got some relations off in the East,
who may come in.”
“Then you must get him to make a will in your favor.”
“I wish he would. Brackett’s spoken to him about it more than once, but
he can be very obstinate when he chooses.”
“You must introduce me to the old chap. Perhaps I can soften his
obstinacy. I’m rather soft-spoken when I choose to be.”
“You’ll stay and make us a visit, won’t you, George?”
“Yes, I’ll stay a few days. I am tired of work, and shall find it pleasant to
rest a while. Where’s Brackett?”
“Here he is.”
Mr. Brackett entered the kitchen at this moment, and glanced with some
surprise at the young man, whom he did not at first recognize.
“It’s brother George, Jeremiah,” said Mrs. Brackett. “I don’t wonder you
don’t recognize him, it’s so long since we’ve seen him.”
“How are you, George?” said his brother-in-law. “Where did you drop
from?”
“Oh, I fancied I’d like to see you and Lucinda again, so I took the cars,
and here I am.”
“Business good with you, George?”
“Rather slow! Still, I’ve managed to live. You seem pretty comfortable.”
Mr. Brackett shook his head.
“Farming’s hard work and poor pay,” he said. “I can’t get ahead at all.”
“When the old man pops off, you’ll be pretty comfortable—hey?”
“I hope so; but there is no knowing how he’ll leave the property.”
“Mr. Brackett,” said his wife, when they were alone, “we’d better not
say anything to George about that money we’ve got in the savings bank. He
might want to borrow it, and he was always careless about money.”
“You’re quite right, Lucindy,” said her husband, approvingly. “You’ve
got a long head of your own. I shall be silent as the grave. We had too hard
work in laying it up to run any risk with it.”
At supper the newcomer, George White, was introduced to Mr. Dodge
and to Andy.
For the first time he seemed to see something familiar in our hero’s face.
“It seems to me I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he said.
“Perhaps you have,” said Andy, indiferently. “Where?”
“I suppose I’m mistaken,” said White, looking puzzled; “but you look
some like a boy I met some distance from here.”
Andy forced himself to seem uninterested, and George White dropped
the subject, concluding that he was mistaken.
 CHAPTER XXXVIII.

A WICKED COMPACT.

Mrs. Brackett knew very little of the way in which her brother had
passed the last eight years. She knew nothing of his lawless life and
conviction of crime, and supposed that his record was as creditable as the
average. She was, therefore, quite ready to give him a cordial welcome, and
to consult him upon family matters. Through her influence, also Mr.
Brackett received his brother-in-law with a friendly welcome,
acknowledging his claims as a relative.
As for George White, his object in seeking out his sister after so long an
absence may be easily told. In fact, it was twofold. He was hard up, and
hoped that he might borrow a sum of money from Lucinda, and also was
glad to betake himself to a quiet place so far from New York, being quite
too well known to the police authorities of the metropolitan district.
He at was present a fugitive from justice, having recently made an
attempt to enter a house in Brooklyn, and failed, through the wakefulness of
a member of the household.
Mr. and Mrs. Brackett and George White sat in a conclave together one
evening soon after his arrival. They were discussing the obstinacy of Simon
Dodge in deferring to make a will in favor of his disinterested son-in-law.
“Can’t you persuade him to do it, Mr. Brackett?” asked White.
“I’ve tried my best, and failed,” said Brackett. “You see the old man’s
dreadfully obstinate when he sets about it. It’s my opinion he’s afraid to
make a will for fear it will hasten his death.”
“Maybe it would, if he made a will in your favor,” said White, with a
knowing wink at his brother-in-law.
“George, I am shocked at you!” said his sister. “You shouldn’t say such
things. Suppose father should hear you?”
“It might make him nervous, I dare say,” said White, coolly. “Seems to
me you act like a couple of children, you two. If I were in your place I’d see
that a proper will was made.”
 “How would you manage it?” asked Brackett.
“How would I manage it? It’s the simplest thing in the world. Is the old
man’s signature hard to imitate?”
“You don’t mean——” ejaculated Brackett, looking about him
nervously.
“Yes, I do.”
“But it would be forgery, and that is a serious offense.”
“Nothing venture, nothing have!” said White, boldly. “The property
ought to come to you and my sister. You agree to that, don’t you?”
“Of course it ought,” said Mr. Brackett. “Haven’t we done everything for
father, and slaved for his comfort?”
“Just so! And you ought to be rewarded. It’s a very simple thing, as I
have already said,” continued White, shaking the ashes from his pipe.
Mr. Brackett was a little startled, but was not shocked. His morality was
not of a high order, and he shrank from forgery only because it was a penal
offense. He felt a little curious to inquire into the details of his brother-in-
law’s plan.
“Supposing I agreed to it,” he said, cautiously, “I haven’t any skill in
imitating writing. I couldn’t write a will that would look like father’s.”
“Only the signature would need to resemble his handwriting,” said
White. “I’m pretty good at imitating signatures myself,” he added,
carelessly. “Have you got any of the old man’s writing?”
“Yes; I’ve got a letter here,” said Brackett, going to his desk and
producing one from a drawer.
“That could be imitated easily,” said White, after a casual examination.
“I’ll leave you two to talk business at your leisure,” said Mrs. Brackett.
“I must go upstairs and look after the children.”
Her brother looked after her with a mocking smile.
“Lucinda’s sharp and cautious,” he remarked. “She thinks it best not to
know anything about it, though she’ll be ready enough to profit by it.
Come, now, Brackett, I’ve a proposal to make.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll draw up such a will as you think best, and sign and witness it.”
“That’s very kind of you, George——”
 “Hold on a minute! You don’t suppose I’m so benevolent as to do all this
without pay, do you?”
“I didn’t know,” answered Brackett, his jaw dropping.
“I’m not such an idiot, thank you! I must have a hundred dollars down,
and a thousand dollars when you come into the property.”
“That’s rather steep!” said Brackett, disturbed.
“It isn’t enough; but you are my sister’s husband, and I’ll work for you
cheaper than for anyone else. I’d charge anybody else at least twice as
much. Well, Brackett, what do you say?”
“It seems a great deal of money to pay for an hour’s work. It won’t take
you more than an hour.”
“You seem to forget there’s some risk about it. Such work as that you
can’t measure by the time it takes.”
“Lucindy would never agree to such terms as that.”
“The more fool she! Didn’t you tell me the old man was good for over
ten thousand dollars?”
“Yes; he must have at least as much as that.”
“And I ask only a thousand dollars to give it to you.”
“Father might make a will himself, leaving it to us,” suggested Brackett.
“In that case, the money would be thrown away.”
“You oughtn’t to begrudge it to your wife’s brother, even then,” said
White. “Still, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you get the money by any other
will, you needn’t pay me the thousand dollars. Isn’t that fair?”
This proposal struck Mr. Brackett favorably, and this was the compact
ultimately formed.
Mrs. Brackett opposed it strenuously at first, being unwilling to
relinquish so much money, even in favor of her own brother; but she was at
last persuaded that it would be better to have nine-tenths of the property
than none at all, and consented.
Several conferences were held, and the date of the forged will was
carefully discussed. At length it was decided to fix upon a time six months
earlier, and to affix the names, as witnesses, of two men who then lived in
the village, but had now gone West, and were not likely to return. Indeed, it
was reported that one of them was dead, which, of course, would make it
impossible for him to deny his signature.
One evening it chanced that Andy, who had gone to the village, returned
sooner than he intended on account of a sudden headache. In passing the
window of the room where the conspirators were seated, he heard a chance
word which arrested his attention.
The window, without the knowledge of Mr. and Mrs. Brackett, was
slightly open, but this was hidden from view by the curtain, and through the
aperture our hero had no difficulty in overhearing enough to satisfy him
what was going on.
Of course his duty was clear. He must inform Mr. Dodge. The next
morning an opportunity came. He not only told uncle Simon what his son-
in-law was doing, but for the first time made him acquainted with the real
character of Mrs. Brackett’s brother.
Simon Dodge was silent for a time from amazement.
“I didn’t think it possible,” he said, “that Jeremiah Brackett would stoop
to such a crime.”
“I believe it is Mr. White who has put him up to it,” said Andy.
“Perhaps you are right. At any rate, this confirms me in my resolution to
go away. Next week, Henry, we will leave the old farm, where I have spent
so many years, and in your mother’s house I will spend the short time that
remains to me.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, Uncle Simon. I shall be very glad to get
away myself.”
“It is no longer safe for me to stay here,” said the old man. “Once this
will is forged, they will be impatient for me to die. As for their wicked
scheming, it will avail them nothing. My true will is made, and in the hands
of my lawyer, and is later than the date they have selected for the pretended
one.”
It was well that Mr. Dodge could not foresee the trying experience that
awaited him before he could sunder the bonds that bound him to the old
farm.
 CHAPTER XXXIX.

A CUNNING PLOT.

George White was a skillful penman—at one time he had been a

bookkeeper—and he had no difficulty in drafting a will which might easily
have passed for the genuine last will and testament of Simon Dodge.
It was shown to Mr. and Mrs. Brackett, and both were well satisfied with
it.
“I guess this will make you all right, Jeremiah,” said White. “It’ll be
worth a good deal of money to you.”
“You’re a master hand at the pen, George,” said Brackett, admiringly.
“Nobody will know this from the old man’s signature. I’ll take care of it till
the time comes when it’s wanted.”
He held out his hand for the document, but George White drew back,
smiling significantly.
“Not so fast, brother-in-law,” he said. “You shall have this when I
receive the hundred dollars. That was the bargain, you remember.”
“You don’t expect I’ve got a hundred dollars in cash, do you?” asked
Brackett, disturbed.
“Then why did you agree to pay me that sum when I had done my
work?” demanded White.
“I didn’t think you’d insist on it. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a
hundred and fifty when the money comes in to me.”
“I am to have a thousand dollars then.”
“Of course; and this will make eleven hundred and fifty. Come, that’s a
fair offer.”
“It may be, in your eyes, brother-in-law, but it isn’t in mine. I tell you I
must have the money now.”
“Where do you think I can raise so much money?” asked Brackett, who
underrated White’s penetration, or he would never have hoped to deceive
him.
 “Plenty of ways,” replied White, coolly.
“Your credit ought to be good for a loan of that amount, when you own a
ten-thousand-dollar farm.”
“There isn’t anybody in town who has money to lend.”
“Must be a peculiar place, then. Is there a mortgage on the farm?”
“No.”
“Mortgage it, then, for a thousand dollars, pay me a hundred, and invest
the rest.”
“I don’t believe Lucindy would agree to that.”
“I see that I shall have to tear the will up.”
“No, no; don’t do that,” said Brackett, hurriedly, extending his hand in
alarm.
“I’ll wait till to-morrow, then, and you can think over the matter. Talk
with Lucinda, if you like. If she’s wise, she’ll agree to my demands.”
Later in the day, George White found himself alone in the house. Mr. and
Mrs. Brackett had gone to the village, taking the children with them.
“I think I’ll make a voyage of discovery,” said White. “I’ll see if Lucinda
hasn’t got some money stowed away somewhere. It’s a great wonder if she
hasn’t, for she’s of a very mean and saving disposition, and, judging from
the table she keeps, she doesn’t spend all her income in pampering the
appetites of her household.”
He went upstairs stealthily, and opened the door of his sister’s chamber.
It was furnished like most bedrooms. Between the two windows stood the
bureau, and to this George White instinctively made his way.
“Women always keep their valuables in their bureaus,” said White.
And his experience as a burglar qualified him to express an opinion on
this subject.
Generally Mrs. Brackett kept the drawers of her bureau locked, but to-
day, by some oversight, she had left a key in one of the locks.
This easily enabled White to search them.
In a corner of the upper drawer his quick eye lighted on a savings-bank
book, and he opened it eagerly.
“Five hundred dollars!” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “So it seems my
poverty-stricken brother-in-law is not so poor, after all. He won’t need to
mortgage his farm to pay me my price. He and Lucinda were very cunning
in keeping from me the knowledge of their savings, but it won’t work—no,
it won’t work! He must draw the money out of the bank for me to-morrow,
or I destroy the will.”
Just then a new thought occurred to White. Why couldn’t he take the
book, forge an order, and draw out the whole sum from the savings bank
himself? It tempted him, but prudence restrained him. It would be decidedly
dangerous.
His sister and her husband were doubtless known in the next village,
where the bank was located, and a stranger attempting to draw out money
on their account would doubtless be subjected to suspicion, and probably be
unable to accomplish his object.
“No, it won’t do,” White decided. “But I’ll suggest to Brackett where he
can find the money to pay me.”
George White left his sister’s room, and a sudden impulse led him to
continue his investigations.
It has already been said that he had been struck by Andy’s resemblance
to some face he had seen before. It occurred to him after a while that the
boy he resembled was the one who had baffled him in his attempt at
robbery, on the highway, between Hamilton and Cranston.
But these towns were three hundred miles away, and it seemed far from
likely that his brother-in-law’s hired boy had been in that distant locality so
recently. Moreover, Andy had not appeared to recognize him—though, as
we know, he had done so.
White had asked him questions, nevertheless, designed to draw out
information on this point, but Andy had skillfully evaded them, without
exciting his suspicions.
Still, White was desirous of learning something more about Andy, and it
was with this object in view that he went up the attic stairs and entered the
little room occupied by our hero.
Andy had no trunk, but there was an old dressing table in the room,
containing a shallow drawer.
White opened this drawer, and curiously scanned the contents.
Andy had incautiously left in the drawer a letter received from his
mother, addressed to the care of his friend George Tierney, and it was of
course postmarked Hamilton.
“Hamilton!” exclaimed White, in astonishment. “Henry receives letters
from Hamilton! Why, that is the place where the boy lived who balked me,
and had poor Mike Hogan arrested. It’s the same boy, I’ll bet fifty dollars! I
saw the resemblance at once.”
White opened the letter and read it through, and when he had finished,
the whole secret was revealed to him.
He discovered that Andy was masquerading under an assumed name,
that he was one of Simon Dodge’s Eastern relatives, who, doubtless, were
in opposition to the interests of his sister and her husband.
“Well, here’s a conspiracy!” ejaculated White. “My sister has been
cherishing a viper in her household, who is scheming to get possession of
the old man’s property. Was there ever anything more vile and
treacherous?”
And the professional burglar became virtuously indignant.
Then an expression of triumph lighted up his face.
“I’ve found you out, my boy, and I’ll put a spoke in your wheel,” he said
to himself. “I’ve got a little score of my own to settle with you, my young
friend, and don’t you forget it. Henry Miller, alias Andy Gordon, you’ll find
that you are no match for George White. Now, how shall I revenge myself
on him?”
A bright idea occurred to White.
He went back to his sister’s bedroom, took the savings-bank book, and
carrying it up to the little attic chamber, put it in Andy’s drawer, but away
back in one corner, where the boy himself would not be likely to see it.
“There’ll be lively times soon, I reckon,” he said to himself,
complacently.
 CHAPTER XL.

THE BRACKETTS ARE CHECKMATED.

Mr. and Mrs. Brackett got home about four o’clock. They had been
talking over the proposal to pay White a hundred dollars cash, but had not
been able to make up their minds to do it.
In fact, paying out ready money seemed as bad to Mrs. Brackett—whose
mean, parsimonious disposition has already been referred to—as having a
tooth drawn.
Indeed, I may say, confidentially, that she would have preferred to lose
half a dozen teeth rather than part with a hundred dollars.
“We’ll put George off,” she said to her husband, as they were riding
home. “We’ll pretend that we are trying to raise the money, but can’t do it.
Perhaps he will get impatient and agree to take less. A hundred dollars is an
outrageous price for such a small job.”
“So I think, Lucindy,” chimed in her husband. “Really your brother
seems to me very grasping.”
“So he is, and very extravagant besides. He could squander more money
in a week than we could lay by in six months.”
Of course they would not have dared to discuss the subject in presence
of the children; but they had been left behind, with the exception of the
youngest, two years of age, to spend the afternoon with some juvenile
companions.
“It’s lucky George doesn’t know about our account in the savings bank,
Lucindy.”
“If he knew of that, it would be impossible to get rid of paying the
money.”
“Suppose he won’t give up the will without the whole amount down?”
“He will. It will do him no good, and if he keeps it or destroys it he
won’t get a cent. I know he needs money, for he told me the other day that
he was reduced to his last five dollars. If we remain firm, he’ll come to our
terms.”
 Mrs. Brackett spoke confidently, and felt so, but it was not long before
she found occasion to reverse her opinion of her brother.
They found him smoking a pipe on the lawn, or grass plat, near the back
door.
“Had a pleasant ride?” he asked, lazily.
“Yes, George,” said his sister. “What have you been doing?”
“Oh, killing time!” he answered, indifferently. “I have been thinking,
Lucinda, that I should have to leave you very soon.”
“You mustn’t hurry,” said Mrs. Brackett; but she felt glad to hear that her
brother was likely to leave her soon.
She did not relish having a free boarder, even if he were her own brother,
and, besides, judged that they could drive a better bargain with him in that
case.
“Oh, I didn’t expect to stay here very long,” said White. “But I can’t go
without that hundred dollars.”
“Really, George, you can’t be aware how hard it is to raise money,” said
his brother-in-law.
“Oh, yes, I can!” said George, smiling. “I find it deuced uphill work
myself,” and he glanced knowingly at Mr. Brackett.
“I mean that I find it hard to raise it for you. You see, a hundred dollars
is a large sum. If you’d be willing now to take twenty-five and the balance
in installments—or, better still, when we come into our money—I think I
could arrange it.”
“My dear brother-in-law,” said White, with a smile, “you do it well—
very well, indeed. If I hadn’t been round the world a little, I dare say I
should be taken in, and accept your statement for gospel.”
“I hope you don’t think my husband would deceive you, George,” said
his sister, with dignity.
“Oh, of course not! Still, I find it is the general custom to look out for
number one.”
“You always looked out for number one, George,” said his sister, bluntly.
“Yes I flatter myself I did; but to return to business. You seem to be at a
loss to know where you can raise the hundred dollars, to which I am entitled
for my services.”
 “You are right there.”
“Then I will tell you where you can find it.”
“I wish you would,” said Brackett, by no means prepared for the reply
that awaited him.
“It was simple enough, Jeremiah. Draw it out of the savings bank. You
will have four hundred dollars left.”
 CHAPTER XLI.

ANDY’S SECRET IS DISCOVERED.

Mr. Brackett stared at his brother-in-law in ludicrous dismay, while

his wife fairly gasped for breath.
Here was a revelation, indeed. Their important secret had been
discovered, and neither knew what to say.
Mrs. Brackett was the first to recover her wits.
“Who told you we had any money in the savings bank, George?” she
demanded.
“Nobody.”
“He only guessed it. He doesn’t know,” she thought. “I can deceive him
yet.”
“I wish we had money in the bank,” she said; “but farming is a poor
business. It doesn’t pay, and all that Jeremiah and I have been able to do has
been to make both ends meet.”
“Lucinda, I admire your ready invention—or, shall I say, your ready
forgetfulness of facts?” said her brother, with a provoking smile; “but you
ought not to try it on me. You must remember that I have been around the
world a little; I have a slight knowledge of men, and women, too. You have
five hundred dollars in the savings bank, and you know it; and, what’s
more, I know it.”
“Who told you?” demanded his sister, desperately.
A smile passed over her brother’s features, as he fixed his eyes on his
sister’s agitated countenance, and answered, simply:
“I have seen the book.”
“Have you dared to go to my bureau drawer?” exclaimed Mrs. Brackett,
angrily.
“There it comes out!” said White, laughing. “No, I have not been to your
bureau drawer.”
“Then, how could you see my bank book?”
 “Then it seems you have one, Lucinda. So I thought.”
“I have a small account in the bank, I admit,” said Mrs. Brackett. “But
it’s only a few dollars.”
“Didn’t I tell you I had seen the book? Why do you try to deceive me?”
“Then you have been to my bureau.”
“It isn’t in your bureau.”
“Then where is it? Have you got it with you?”
“No,” assured White, unblushingly. “But I know where it is.”
“Where is it?” asked his sister, nervously.
“I must tell you the story, and then you will understand how I came to
find out about your deposit. That boy of yours, Henry Miller, I distrusted as
soon as I saw him. I couldn’t place him, but I was convinced I had seen him
somewhere, and that his character was bad.”
“Just what I always thought!” ejaculated Mrs. Brackett, profoundly
gratified at hearing something to Andy’s discredit.
“Your instinct was quite correct, my esteemed sister. Well, this
afternoon, being left alone in the house, I thought I would search Henry’s
room, being influenced chiefly by missing a small amount of money a day
or two since.”
“Did you find it in the boy’s room?” asked Lucinda, eagerly.
“No; he was too shrewd to leave money around. The young rascal has a
long head, and, I must admit, is unusually smart. I didn’t find any money,
but on opening the drawer of his dressing table, tucked away in a corner, I
saw a savings-bank book. I thought it was his, but on examining it I
discovered your name. Of course I opened it, and that is the way I found
how much money you had.”
“But what could the boy want with the book?” asked Brackett.
“He intended to forge an order and draw some of the money as soon as
he went to Jefferson.”
“He was to go there to-morrow with father,” ejaculated Mrs. Brackett.
“Just so! He’s in with the old man, and no wonder. Do you know who he
is?”
“I don’t know anything beyond his name,” said Brackett.
 “You don’t know that!” said White, triumphantly. “His name is not
Henry Miller at all.”
“What is it, George?” asked Mrs. Brackett, eagerly.
“Prepare to be astonished. You have been harboring a traitor in your
house. His name is Andy Gordon, and his mother is the niece of your father-
in-law!”
Mr. and Mrs. Brackett stared at each other in consternation.
 CHAPTER XLII.

HOW THE TABLES WERE TURNED.

“Of course,” continued White, “it is evident enough why the boy came
here. He wanted to worm himself into the confidence of your father-in-law
and deprive you of the property which ought to come to you.”
“It is shameful!” exclaimed Mr. Brackett, indignantly.
“It’s outrageous!” chimed in Mrs. Brackett, furiously.
“You would never have known of this conspiracy but for me, Lucinda,”
said George White.
“No more we should, George,” said his sister.
“And yet you grudge me the small sum you agreed to pay me.”
“Jeremiah,” said Mrs. Brackett, her parsimony overcome by this
consideration, “it is true what George says. We must manage to pay him the
money.”
“If you think best, Lucindy,” said her husband, submissively; “but allow
me to suggest that if it is true, and we lose father’s money, we shall be very
close-pressed ourselves.”
“You don’t understand, brother-in-law,” said White, “that the theft of
your bank book will blast Henry’s, or rather Andy Gordon’s, reputation, and
consign him to a prison.”
“That will be one comfort,” said Mrs. Brackett, her eyes lighting up with
malicious exultation.
“Moreover, when the old man finds out what a scamp the boy is, he
won’t be very apt to make him his heir.”
“George, you’re a great man,” said Brackett, admiringly. “It takes you to
find out things.”
“Thank you, Jeremiah!” said White, modestly. “You must remember that
I have knocked about the world long enough to get my wits sharpened.”
“What shall we do about this matter? How shall we proceed? Shall we
have the boy arrested?”
 “I’ll tell you. Send for the old man and the boy at once. Then we’ll go
upstairs together and discover the bank book in the boy’s drawer.”
“There’s one objection,” said Brackett, uneasily. “Father doesn’t know
that we have any money in the savings bank.”
“And you didn’t mean that I should know, either, Jeremiah,” laughed
White. “No matter. Look out for number one. That’s my motto, and I can’t
complain if it’s yours also. The old man will have to know now. You can
explain the matter some way.”
Mr. Brackett went up to Mr. Dodge’s room and called him down, while
Mrs. Brackett, with a stern frown, summoned Andy from the yard, where he
was at work.
When all were gathered in the sitting room, Mrs. Brackett began.
“Father,” she said, “we have made an unpleasant discovery.”
“What is it?” asked the old man.
“We have discovered that there is a thief in the house.”
Curiously it chanced that neither Andy nor Mr. Dodge looked nervous,
but each fixed his eyes upon George White.
“Well,” said Simon Dodge, after a pause, “who is it?”
“It is that boy!” said Mrs. Brackett, venomously, pointing to Andy.
Andy started, but did not look at all panic-stricken.
“Who charges me with being a thief?” he demanded, boldly.
“I do!” said George White, smiling triumphantly.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Andy, contemptuously.
“How he brazens it out!” thought Mrs. Brackett.
“Yes,” she said, aloud. “My brother has found you out in your evil
doings.”
“What is Henry charged with stealing?” asked Mr. Dodge, mildly.
Now it was Mrs. Brackett’s turn to look confused.
“Tell him, George,” she said.
“My sister’s savings-bank book,” answered White.
“So you have a deposit in the savings-bank?” said Simon Dodge, in a
tone which rather disconcerted his self-styled daughter-in-law.
 “Jeremiah and I, by great economy, had saved something,” she
explained, hurriedly; “though we could hardly hope to keep it long, on
account of our increasing expenses.”
“Suppose we go up to the boy’s room, and convince you all of his
character,” said White.
“Lead on, sir!” said the old man, with dignity. “I shall not believe that
Henry is a thief till I have the most convincing proof.”
“You shall have the most convincing proof, sir,” said George White,
pompously.
Together they went upstairs, and filed one by one into the attic chamber
occupied by our hero.
George White stepped up to the dressing table already referred to, and
opened the drawer wide.
From the corner he drew out the savings-bank book.
“There!” said he, with a flourish, “what do you say to that?”
“What do you say to it, Henry?” asked Simon Dodge, kindly.
“That I never saw the book before in my life,” answered our hero,
promptly.
“What a brazen liar!” ejaculated Mrs. Brackett, holding up both hands in
a theatrical manner.
“Then how did it get there, Henry?” asked Brackett, thinking that the
question indicated extraordinary sharpness. “It couldn’t get into the drawer
of its own accord, I take it.”
“I agree with you, sir,” said Andy, not appearing so much overwhelmed
as his questioner expected.
“Then perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell us how it did get there,
young man,” said George White, magisterially.
“I will, sir,” answered Andy, with the utmost coolness. “You put it
there.”
“I put it there?” exclaimed White, looking around him, with a mocking
smile. “My young friend, that is entirely too thin.”
“Oh, yes, Henry!” chimed in Mr. Brackett. “You can’t make us believe
that story, you know.”
 “I’d like to box your ears, you young slanderer!” exclaimed Mrs.
Brackett, glaring at poor Andy, who, however, did not appear to be withered
by her glance. “You’re a humbug, as well as a thief! You’re an impostor,
and we’ve found you out.”
“How is Henry an impostor?” asked Mr. Dodge, mildly.
“His name is no more Henry Miller than mine is,” vociferated Mr.
Brackett, furiously.
“How is that, Henry?” asked Mr. Dodge.
“Mr. Brackett is perfectly right,” said our hero.
“Yes,” confirmed Simon Dodge; “since you have found it out, I may as
well introduce Henry Miller as my grand-nephew, Andy Gordon, of the
town of Hamilton.”
“What do you say to your grand-nephew turning out to be a thief?”
asked Mr. Brackett, triumphantly.
“What do I say? I say that it’s a lie!” answered the old man,
unexpectedly.
Mr. and Mrs. Brackett stared at each other in dismay.
“He’s been detected in the act. The book was found in his drawer.”
“And that man put it in,” said the old man, with spirit, pointing to
George White.
“How dare you say this?” demanded White, angrily.
“Because I have been in the house all the afternoon. I saw you steal into
your sister’s room and presently emerge with the book. I afterward saw you
go up with it to Andy’s room. The inference is plain enough.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Mrs. Brackett, faintly.
“Perhaps you will when you hear a little more about this precious
brother of yours. Andy, tell Mrs. Brackett what you know about him.”
For the first time, George White looked nervous and uneasy. Andy spoke
without hesitation:
“The last time I saw him he tried to rob me of a large sum which I was
carrying to deposit in the bank, three hundred miles from here. He was in
company with an older man, who was caught, and is now serving a term of
years in State’s prison.
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