gits another bunch o' letters that's come to him in the mail. If that don't mean some sort o' business, I don't know what'n thunder it

    does

   mean."

   "Nor I," said the girl, yawning again. "What about Ned Joselyn? Was he nice?"

   "Dressed like a dandy, looked like a fool, acted like the Emp'ror o' Rooshy an' pleased ev'rybody by runnin' away. That is, ev'rybody but his wife an' Ol' Swallertail."

   "I see. Who else lives over your store?"

   "I live there myself; me an' my fambly, in the back part. One o' the front rooms I rents to Ol' Swallertail, an' he pays the rent reg'lar. The other front room Miss Huckins, the dressmaker, lives in."

   "Oh. I'm a dressmaker, too. Guess I'll go up and see her. Is she in?"

   "When she's out, she leaves the key with me, an' the key ain't here. Say, girl, what's yer name?"

   "Josie."

   "Josie what?"

   "Jessup. Pa was a drayman. Ever hear of him?"

   "No. But about the Hathaways; what has—"

   "And you've got no red thread? Or green?"

   "Only black an' white. Does the Colonel—"

   "Can't use black or white," said the girl, deliberately getting off the barrel. "Guess I'll go up and ask Miss Huckins if she has any red."

   Out she walked, and old Sol rubbed his wrinkled forehead with a bewildered look and muttered:

   "Drat the gal! She's pumped me dry an' didn't tell me a word about them Hathaway folks. She worse'n ol' Eben, the nigger help. Seems like nobody wants t' talk about the Hathaways, an' that means there's somethin' queer about 'em. But this red-headed sewin'-girl is a perfec' innercent an' I'll git her talkin' yet, if she stays here long."

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