see her comfortably tucked in bed and then read her to sleep from her beloved Bible. Mr. and Mrs. De Vere went to the library where a bright fire crackled on the hearth, scenting the room with birch. Throwing himself on a couch, Mr. De Vere with a deep sigh said: “You know the mortgage on this place comes due January first, and probably Mills wants his money. I can’t blame him either for Nootwyck is dead. One enterprise after another falls through for want of railway6 communication. Look at the iron mine, the blast-furnace and the rolling-mill. They cannot compete with like industries elsewhere and consequently fail.”

6

“This town is bonded for the railroad and we are entitled to have it extended through to Kingston,” his wife said.

“The business men of Elmdale do not want this extension, and I fear they have played a winning game.”

A loud ring at the door announced the arrival of some one, and who should Reuben usher in but Mr. Mills himself.

“Good evening, Mr. Mills,” said Mr. De Vere cordially. “Stormy night.”

Divesting himself of overcoat and rubbers, Mr. Mills entered the library and shook hands graciously with both.

He was tall and spare, of about fifty-five, and his manner was that of a man of the world; but his unsteady glance never met one’s frankly and his movements were restless.

Reuben brought in a tray on which were a plate of crullers and some cider and while7 they were sipping it, he replenished the fire.

7

“Where did you get that treasure?” inquired Mills after Reuben left the room.

“He was a porter in the college at Vicksburg, Mississippi, when I occupied the Chair of Ancient Languages there. He became enamored of Mrs. De Vere’s maid, Margaret, and begged me to buy him, which I did.”

“If not an impertinent question, may I ask what you paid for him?”

“Certainly. I gave one thousand dollars for him. He is not an ignorant man, as you can see.”

“How did he get his education?”

“I taught him and he still studies every spare moment of his time.”

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