"But why did they attack me?" Douglas asked. "They had no ill will against me; they were merely tools in the hands of another. The one who set them on evidently wished to do me an injury. He is the guilty one, and I demand that you inquire who he is."

"Then you can keep on demanding," was the surly response. "I am conducting this case and not you."

A murmur of disapproval passed through the audience, and several cries of "Shame" were heard. Squire Hawkins was feeling very angry and at the same time uneasy. He was between two fires. He was afraid of the people, and yet he had a greater fear of the Stubbles. As he hesitated, not knowing what to do, Tom Totten cleared his throat and turned partly around.

"If yez want to know who put us on to that nasty job, I'll tell yez," he began. "It was Ben Stubbles who did it. He gave us the whiskey, an' ordered us to waylay Jake Jukes' hired man an' beat him up. That's God's truth, an' we are all ready to swear to it."

During the inquiry Ben had entered the hall and remained near the door. He listened to all that took place with much amusement. He felt perfectly secure and trusted to Squire Hawkins to shield him from any blame. He enjoyed Douglas' apparent defeat when his request was refused. But Tom's voluntary information was entirely unexpected. He had never for an instant imagined that the man would dare make such a statement. His momentary consternation gave way to furious anger and he at once hurried up the aisle.

"What in h—— are you giving us?" he demanded from Tom. "What do you mean by bringing my name into this affair?"

Tom stared in amazement at the irate man before him, for he could hardly believe his senses. Then his eyes blazed with indignation as he grasped the significance of the scoundrel's words.

"I've been givin' the truth, Ben Stubbles," he replied, "an' ye know it as well as we do."

"You lie," and Ben stamped hard upon the floor in his rage. "You were beastly drunk, got into trouble, and then lay the blame on me. That's a nice way to do things."

Douglas could hardly control himself at these brazen words. Jake, sitting by his side, was wriggling and muttering many "Great punkins!" under his breath. In fact, the entire assembly was becoming restless and ready for almost anything. But Tom remained remarkably calm. He took a step forward and faced the Squire.

"Ye hear what Ben says, sir," he began, "an' ye've heard what we've said. It's six to one, an' we're ready to swear any time on the Good Book that what we've told ye is true. Which d'ye believe; him or us?"

The Squire now was in a worse fix than ever. He mopped his perspiring forehead with a big handkerchief and looked helplessly around. He longed for the platform to open and swallow him up. But no such miraculous relief was granted. The issue was before him, and he knew he had to face it.

"I—I think I shall reserve judgment," he stammered, "until I have given this matter due consideration."

"But we want ye to decide now, sir," Tom insisted. "We want to know what ye're goin' to do before we leave the hall. It's six to one, an' any kid could figger that out, without waitin'."

"Hear, hear," came from several in the room.

"But I must have time to think it out carefully," the Squire replied. "You were drunk when you made the attack, and it was easy then for you to imagine almost anything."

"But we weren't drunk, sir, when Ben met us that night, an' gave us the whiskey, an' told us what to do, was we?" and he turned to his companions.

"No, no," came as one from the lined-up men.

As Squire Hawkins' eyes wandered first from the six men to Ben and then back again in an uncertain manner, an idea suddenly flashed into his mind. He grasped it in an instant.

"Look here," he demanded. "I am not dealing with Mr. Benjamin Stubbles now, but with you six men who, according to your own confession, made the attack. If necessary, I can take up his case later. You are the men I have been called upon to try, and not Mr. Stubbles. I, therefore, declare you guilty of waylaying one, John Handyman by name, with the intention of afflicting bodily injury, and also of breaking into Professor Strong's house. These are very serious offences, but as this is the first time you have been before me I shall make the penalty very light, and impose the fine of only ten dollars upon each of you. That is my decision, and I hope you are satisfied."

Douglas was upon his feet in an instant.

"You are perverting justice," he cried. "You know who is the guilty man and you are letting him go free. I demand that you give a different judgment, or at least be man enough to acknowledge that you are afraid to give any decision against Ben Stubbles."

"Hear, hear," came from all parts of the room, and in the excitement that followed, Squire Hawkins declared the trial ended and left the building with Ben as quickly as possible.

Douglas was thoroughly disgusted at the farce he had just witnessed. He was somewhat disheartened as well. What hope had he of accomplishing anything when the man appointed to administer British justice exhibited such a spirit of partiality and cringing cowardice? The men around him were greatly excited, though he felt that nothing could be expected from them. They might storm and rage at the injustice, but they would bow their necks as in the past to the Stubbles' yoke and endure every indignity.

Leaving the hall and the babel of voices, he hurried up the road. The unpolluted air was refreshing and he became calmer. Presently an idea flashed into his mind, which brought a flush to his cheeks and caused his eyes to kindle with a new hope. "Strange I didn't think of it before," he mused. "But perhaps it is not too late yet. I shall try it, anyway."



CHAPTER XXVI

ON THE ROCKS

Charles Garton was seated in his cosy study smoking his after-dinner cigar. It was unusual for him to be alone at this hour of the evening, as his wife and children were generally with him. But he had been late coming from the office and by the time he had finished his dinner the children were put to bed, as this was the maid's evening out. Mrs. Garton was attending a church "affair" and would not be home until ten, so she had phoned.

Garton was glad to be alone as it afforded him a quiet time for thought. As a rule he tried to leave his business concerns behind him when he left the office. But to-night it was different, and his eyes often turned toward two letters lying open on the little stand by his side. At length, picking up one of them, he read it again, and as he did so his face brightened and he gave a deep sigh of relief. But as he scanned the other his brow knitted in perplexity and, leaning back, he blew great wreaths of smoke into the air.

"Strange," he mused, "how that mine has recovered. I had given up all hope of getting anything from it, and now it is booming. My, won't Kit be surprised! I would feel happy to-night but for this other letter. I wonder what I had better do about it. Things are certainly in a bad shape there. He's on the rocks sure enough, and will go to pieces if we don't come to his assistance, so he says."

Garton's reverie was broken by the clear insistent ring of the door-bell.

"Confound it!" he muttered, as he rose from the chair, and hurried out of the room. "Can't I have a little peace for one night at least?"

But no sooner had he thrown open the door than his tone of anger gave way to one of joy, when he beheld Douglas Stanton standing before him.

"Well, 'pon my word!" he cried, seizing his visitor by the arm and dragging him unceremoniously into the study. "Where in the world have you dropped from? And what duds! Where did you get them? And your face! My! it's some colour; bronzed, unshaven, and——"

"Unwashed," Douglas laughingly interrupted, as he threw himself into an easy chair. "Any more remarks to make, eh? I am afraid your manners haven't improved any more than my personal appearance since last we met."

"No, I haven't changed one bit, but you have," and Garton's eyes gazed approvingly upon his companion. "I would give almost anything to be as strong and husky as you are."

"Live as I have for the last few weeks and your wife won't know you," Douglas replied, as he reached out and helped himself to a cigar. "But how are Mrs. Garton and the kids? You seem to be keeping bachelor's hall. Anything wrong? Married life a failure?"

"No, not at all. The family are fine; children in bed and wife at a church 'tea fight.' But, we can talk about them when they show up. I want to know now about yourself, and how you have been making out. It's a comfort, anyway, to know that you are alive."

"That's about all, I guess," Douglas replied, as he flicked off the end of his cigar into the ash-tray.

"Have they driven you out?" Garton eagerly questioned.

"It hasn't come to that yet, though attempts have been made to do so. But I fear they will succeed unless you come to my rescue."

"Why, what can I do?" and Garton looked his surprise. "Surely you are not going to get me into any trouble up there!"

"Lawyers generally like trouble, don't they? More trouble, more money, is their motto, so I understand."

"Yes, as a rule. But, you see, this has to do with Church matters, and I like to keep out of them."

"Too little money in the parsons' pockets, eh? Well, I don't blame you. But I want your advice. You told me to come to you whenever I needed help, and here I am. I want it now as never before."

"And you shall have it. Give me your story, and then I shall see what can be done. I hope to goodness you haven't killed anybody."

"Not exactly killed with my hands, though perhaps I have with my heart, which is just as bad, according to Scripture."

As briefly and as concisely as possible Douglas related his experiences at Rixton. He told about his work on the farm, his conflict with the Stubbles, the sorrow of the shoemaker and his wife over their daughter, of Mrs. Dempster and Empty, and the professor and his daughters. He was as cautious as possible when speaking about Nell, and from his words the lawyer received not the slightest idea of his love for her.

Douglas told his story well, and before he was through Garton was pacing up and down the study. He was unusually excited and at times he found it difficult to restrain his feelings.

"Good heavens, man!" he exclaimed when Douglas had finished, "you've been having a wild west show up there. You might have called upon your neighbours to see the fun."

"I am calling upon one now to see the finish," was the laconic reply. "If he doesn't take a hand in the matter at once there'll soon be a finish to the chief actor. You can't do anything when British justice is perverted through cowardice and partiality. Simon Stubbles rules the parish, and will continue to rule it in his own way unless he is checked."

"And checked he shall be," Garton emphatically replied, bringing his fist down hard upon the study table. "I am glad you have come to see me to-night, for your story has solved a problem which has been perplexing me all day. Simon Stubbles is on the rocks and has appealed to me for help."

"On the rocks!" Douglas vaguely repeated.

"Yes, on the rocks. He is financially embarrassed, and has signalled to me for assistance."

"That's news to me. I thought he was very wealthy."

"And so did every one. But here is his letter," and the lawyer picked it up from the stand. "I received it this morning, and in it he tells me that unless he has ten thousand dollars immediately he will go under. He wishes to mortgage the whole of his property, mill, house and timber lands."

"This is certainly remarkable news to me," Douglas replied. "I am sure that the people of Rixton have no knowledge of this. They consider him very wealthy, and not without reason for he does a big business. Have you any idea as to the cause of his embarrassment? He seems to live very quietly, and attends strictly to business."

"The letter does not say what it is. But since hearing your story I have formed my own conclusion."

"And what is that?"

"It is his son. From what you have told me, that young man has been leading a very fast life. He does not work at all, and therefore his father must have been providing the money for his headlong career. I do not think I am far astray as cases similar to this have come to my notice. There are too many such young men abroad to-day, doing nothing for themselves, a menace to society, and wretched parasites upon their fathers. I always get furious whenever I think of them. That must be the trouble with Stubbles senior."

"Do you intend to help him?" Douglas asked as calmly as possible. He would have been more than human had he not thrilled at the news he had just heard. Here was a chance, perhaps, to get even for his harsh treatment at Simon Stubbles' hands.

"That is the trouble which has been perplexing me all day," Garton replied. "Before you came I had about made up my mind to do so. I did not know anything about that reckless son of his then. Neither had I any idea that he is such a tyrant at Rixton, nor how he has treated the clergymen who have been there. I thought he was an active and an earnest Church worker, and that was one of the reasons in his favour. But now I see things in a different light."

"But his reign will soon be over, though, if you do not help him," Douglas replied. "I had no idea that assistance would come to me in such an unexpected manner. But, say," and he leaned suddenly forward, "now I understand something. Strange that it never occurred to me before."

"What is it?"

Douglas then told about the mortgage on Professor Strong's place, and how Stubbles was about to foreclose as he needed money. He said nothing, however, about Ben's part in the affair with Nell. He could not trust himself to mention this.

"Who is this Strong?" Garton asked. "The name sounds familiar. There was a professor by that name at Passdale."

"He is the same man, but he is blind now, and helpless, depending upon his daughter for support. He lost what money he had saved, so I understand."

"You don't tell me that Professor Strong is living in Rixton!" Garton exclaimed in astonishment. "Why, he was considered a very able man when he was at Passdale I have heard a great deal about him. But how did he come to lose his money?"

"He invested it, like so many other simpletons, in that Big Chief mining concern. I did the same, and so lost what little I had."

"No, you haven't," and Garton picked up one of the letters by his side. "I have good news for you and the professor. The Big Chief has revived and is going stronger than ever. This is a letter I received to-day telling me about it. I invested largely in that concern, and so am greatly interested."

Douglas made no reply to this most gratifying information. His mind had gone back to Rixton and the little cottage by the river-side. He pictured to himself the expression upon Nell's face and the look of joy in her eyes when she heard the good news. How he longed to start right off and tell her. What a relief it would be to her to know that the little place would be saved from Simon Stubbles' grasp, and that all the gnawing financial cares would be ended. It seemed almost too good to be true.

"How much did the professor invest?" Garton at length enquired.

"I do not know. But it must have been quite a sum. Anyway, it was his all, and the failure meant so much to him and his daughters."

"He can sell now at a good profit, as the stock is higher than ever it was before. You can tell him to come to me if he wishes to dispose of his interest."

"I can hardly believe that what you have told me is true," Douglas replied, "as it will mean so much for the Strongs. Simon Stubbles won't be able to worry them any longer."

"Indeed he won't. He's got his own troubles to attend to, and they will be much heavier than they are now, if he isn't careful."

"What do you propose to do? Help him out?"

"That all depends upon you, Stanton."

"Upon me! Why, what can I do?"

"Say the word, and I will refuse to assist him. He can go under, and the parish will be rid of him. Isn't that what you want?"

For a while Douglas was silent. It would be a choice revenge to see the blustering and impudent bully crushed by a single word. He thought of Ben and the haughty and sarcastic sisters. How delightful it would be to see them wince under the blow of financial failure. This temptation was only of short duration, however, for it was succeeded by a nobler feeling. He must not allow the spirit of revenge to affect him in the least. All that he wanted was justice, and freedom for Church work in Rixton. The Stubbles were in the way, and if pressure could now be brought to bear, either to bring them to their senses or to force them out of the parish, then it was right to do so.

"Is it hard to decide?" the lawyer asked, noting his hesitation and preoccupied air.

"Yes, it is. I wish to do what is fair. The tempter's advice is to get even now for the injury that has been done. But a nobler voice bids me to rise above such a feeling and do nothing in the spirit of revenge, but merely for the welfare of Rixton."

"But should not the Stubbles be taught a severe lesson? Is it right that they should escape all punishment?"

"I suppose not, but punishment should not be carried out in the spirit of revenge. When the State punishes a man, say with imprisonment, for some crime, it is not done in the spirit of revenge, but in order to safeguard society in general, as well as to teach a severe lesson. The same applies to parental authority over children. Now, I want to do something similar to that in this affair. I wish to do it without any vindictiveness on my part."

"You are quite right, Stanton," the lawyer replied. "I see your point, and I admire you for it. But we must do something."

"Certainly. But let us do nothing hastily. Let me think this over to-night, and we can discuss it again in the morning. You have told me so much that I am anxious to consider every point very carefully. Will that do?"

Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Garton. She was delighted to see Douglas, and at once began to question him about his adventures at Rixton.

"Let us have a cup of cocoa first, Kit," her husband suggested. "And a piece of your nice cake, too," he added.

"Starving as usual," Mrs. Garton smilingly replied. "Didn't you have your dinner?"

"Why, yes, but it's nearly eleven now, and you promised to be home at ten."

When the cocoa had been made and brought into the study, Mrs. Garton looked quizzically at Douglas.

"If I met you on the street I would not recognise you," she remarked.

"So that's the way you treat your friends, is it!" her husband bantered.

"Oh, I don't mean that, Charles," she protested. "But I never saw Mr. Stanton dressed that way before."

"No wonder you wouldn't recognise me," Douglas smilingly replied. "It is a splendid disguise at times. Even Dr. Rannage didn't know me when he came to Rixton."

"What, were you at that meeting?" Garton asked.

"So you heard of it, then?"

"Sure. Why, Dr. Rannage was furious when he came home, and at a recent session of the Board of Missions he expressed his opinion in no uncertain manner, so I understand."

"And he is not over it yet," Mrs. Garton remarked. "I was talking to him for a while to-night, and he told me about his terrible experience up there. He said that it was not a fit place to send any man, and that the people were most ignorant and uncouth."

"They were too much for Dr. Rannage, though," Douglas replied. He then told them in detail about the meeting that night at the Corner. "Dr. Rannage made a fool of himself," he said in conclusion. "He was not the proper person to send there."

"Won't you tell me something about Rixton?" Mrs. Garton asked, "and what you have been doing since you left the city?"

"Tell her about your wrestling bout with Jake Jukes," Garton suggested, "and the widow and her news-bag of a son, and also about the old shoemaker and his wayward daughter. Yes, and about the old professor and his daughters."

"You have given me a big contract," Douglas laughingly replied.

"I know I have, but Kit must hear it."

It was late when the three at last rose to retire. But Douglas did not mind, for he was glad to have such interested listeners. But the part of his story that was nearest his heart he did not tell. Not even to the Gartons would he reveal his love for Nell, and all that she meant to him.

Douglas walked with Garton down the street the next morning toward the lawyer's office.

"Well, what is your decision as to the Stubbles' affair?" the latter asked. "I suppose you have it all cut and dried."

"Not altogether," was the reply. "I spent much of the night thinking it over, but am not fully decided yet. But there is one thing I would like you to do."

"What is that?"

"Come to Rixton and let us both meet Stubbles and have it out with him. What do you think of the idea?"

"It is a good one, and it has been in my mind ever since you told me your story last night."

"When can you come? To-day? I am going back this afternoon."

"I cannot go until to-morrow. I shall go in my auto in the morning and not bother with the train."

"Come right to Jake Jukes' house and I shall get Mrs. Jukes to have dinner ready. I know it will be a good one, so bring your appetite with you. Don't be too late."

"Oh, I'll be on time. When we get through with Stubbles, I want to have a few words with Squire Hawkins. We mustn't let him off too easily."



CHAPTER XXVII

THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE

It had taken the people of Rixton a long time to oppose the overbearing tyranny of Simon Stubbles and his family. It really began that afternoon at the close of the so-called trial. The men were incensed as never before, and talked and threatened in an alarming manner. Even then, nothing of a definite nature might have been done but for the leadership of Jake Jukes. He was slow to arouse to a pitch of fury, but when once stirred he was a formidable opponent, and this all knew. His affection for Douglas was something remarkable, and his wife had at times bantered him about thinking more of his hired help than he did of her. Douglas' courage in facing the Stubbles, combined with his ability as a wrestler, was what appealed to Jake, and when he saw what a miserable farce Squire Hawkins was making of the trial, and listened to Ben Stubbles' blasphemous denial of all connection with the night attack, his anger rose to white heat.

For a while he remained silent at the close of the trial, and merely listened to what the men were saying. He heard all kinds of suggestions and wild talk. Some advocated burning out the Stubbles, mill and house, and driving them from the parish. Others were for horse-whipping Ben and Squire Hawkins, while one went so far as to suggest that they hang Ben to the limb of a tree. Jake knew that all this talk would amount to nothing without a leader, and if no one else would act, he would. Quickly mounting a bench, he ordered the men to be silent.

"Ye'r all talkin' like a bunch of kids," he chided. "Let's git down to business, an' do something. I don't want this to end in nuthin' but talk as in the past. It's now or never. I'm willin' to lead an' take the hull blame, if yez don't funk on me at the last minute."

"Good fer you, Jake," several shouted. "We'll stand by ye, never fear."

"All right, then," Jake replied, "I'll bank on yez all. But yez better go home now an' think this all over, an' what is more important, keep ye'r tongues still an' don't blab this all over the place. When I want yez, I'll send fer yez, an' not before."

The Stubbles family were at their late breakfast the next morning when news reached them about the indignation meeting in the hall the previous evening. It was Squire Hawkins who told them. He had received the information from an early caller at the store. All the Stubbles considered the affair a huge joke excepting Miss Mehetibel. She was angry and expressed her views in a most caustic manner.

"It's that horrid fiddler," she declared, "who is at the bottom of all this. Pa, I don't understand why you allow him to remain in the parish."

"Oh, he'll be out of the place soon," Stubbles senior replied. "You'll attend to him, Squire, won't you?" and he winked at Hawkins across the room.

The storekeeper grinned in reply. He was greatly pleased at the way he had managed affairs at the trial, and had no fear of the people so long as he had the Stubbles with him.

"They're all beasts and should be soundly whipped," Miss Mehetibel proclaimed. "Oh, if I were only a man!"

"Cut your hair and change your clothes, Hettie," her brother sarcastically replied, "and you'll pass for a man any time."

"I'd be ashamed to be like you, Ben," was the retort. "You haven't enough spunk to be in the catalogue of men."

"Maybe not, but I get there just the same. What about last night?"

"Oh, that's not ended yet. That indignation meeting may amount to something after all."

"Not a bit of it. It'll all end in talk. Why, the people in this parish haven't the spunk of chickens when a hawk is after them. Dad's the hawk in this case, and they're frightened to death of him. Come, girls, let's go for a spin."

If Ben Stubbles had only known what was really taking place in Rixton he would not have spoken so contemptuously about the people of the parish. The intense feeling which pervaded the community that day was ominous. Neighbours neglected their work as never before, and met in twos and threes near their line fences to discuss the one big question of the day. That they were determined to stand by Jake was most evident, and they impatiently waited for word that would stir them to action.

Their anger was further roused when they learned of what Ben had done to Jean Benton at Long Wharf. This was due to Empty, and the startling news spread from house to house with mysterious rapidity. No one doubted it for an instant, for Empty himself had heard it from Jean's own lips, and that settled it so far as the people were concerned. It was this which removed the last particle of hesitation in the mind of any one as to the necessity of action. When at last word came from Jake to be ready that night, the men were as one in their grim determination to take matters into their own hands.

The wharf near the store was the stated place of meeting, and there, just after sundown, the men of Rixton gathered. They came in little groups without any noise or clamour. Squire Hawkins, at first, had no idea of their intentions, but thought that they had come merely to meet the evening steamer. But as the crowd increased, he became somewhat uneasy as reports of impending trouble drifted to his ears. In his anxiety, he sent word to Simon Stubbles, telling him of his fears and advising him to come and disperse the men.

It was Ben who received the message just as he was about to head his car through the gate of the driveway leading up to the house. With a curse he swung his car to the right and started up the road toward the wharf. He would attend to the crowd, and send the men about their business. His father could make an example of the ringleaders later. But for once in his life Ben Stubbles had reckoned without his cost. As he drew up near where the men were gathered, he ordered them to clear out and go home.

"I know your plans," he told them, "but what do you think you can do? Don't you know what will happen to you? Have you all gone crazy, you d—— fools?"

The only reply to these words was a roar of anger as the crowd surged toward the car. Ben, seeing them coming, and realising for the first time the seriousness of the situation, endeavoured to escape. But he was too late, for in an instant he was lifted off his feet and placed astride a pole which was carried upon the shoulders of two strong men. Cursing and raving, Ben threw himself to the ground but was immediately hustled back again by a score of rough hands.

"Set still, ye beast, an' stop ye'r wrigglin'," Jake ordered. "Ye'r only gettin' what's comin' to ye. Ye'll git a darn sight more if ye don't keep quiet."

Away from the wharf and the main highway Ben was borne, and across an open meadow to a deep slimy frog-pond on the edge of a large swamp. Here he was dumped unceremoniously upon the ground, and ordered to remove his clothes. When he hesitated and looked helplessly about as if seeking for some avenue of escape, rough hands seized him and in a few minutes he was standing as naked as the moment he was born. Ben's face was now pale and he was trembling in every limb. His cursing and raving had ceased and the cowardly heart of the man showed itself. He pleaded for mercy, and begged his captors to let him go.

"Not till we're through with ye," Jake told him. "Ye've had ye'r own way in this place long enough, an' it's our turn now."

"We'll teach ye a thing or two, ye bloody liar," Tom Totten roared. "Ye'r heart's as black as ink, an' ye'r body'll be jist as black in a few minutes. Bring on the stuff, boys."

At once a pail of coal-tar was produced, and seizing the brush which was handed him, Tom dipped it into the tar. At the first daub upon his naked body, Ben emitted a yell of despair and made a frantic effort to escape. But he was instantly seized and laid on the ground.

"Ye'd better keep quiet, me hearty," Tom warned, as he rapidly smeared Ben's body from head to foot. "If ye'r not careful I'll do ye'r face an' head at the same time."

While this was taking place, several of the men were ripping open an old feather bed they had brought with them. Into this Ben was plunged, and rolled over and over until he looked more like an unsightly feathered creature than a human being. He was then made to stand on his feet for general inspection. The men shouted with laughter at the ludicrous spectacle he presented, and all kinds of uncomplimentary remarks were made.

"Who's your tailor?" asked one.

"Is that the latest fashion?" questioned another.

Presently Jake raised his hand, and the babel of tongues ceased.

"Now, look here, Ben," he began, "this is a nasty job, I know. But it was comin' to ye, an' it had to be done sooner or later. Ye were altogether too fresh an' there was no livin' in the parish with ye. This is jist a warnin' to you an' all connected with ye, that the men of Rixton won't stand no more tom-foolery. We're going to take things in our own hands after this, an' we're not goin' to allow you nor ye'r father nor anybody else to treat us like a bunch of damn curs. Isn't that so, boys?"

"Hear, hear!" came from all. "Give him hell, Jake."

"An' look here, Ben," he continued, "we've all heard what ye done to Jean Benton at Long Wharf. By the great jumpin' punkin! I kin hardly keep me hands off ye'r measley body fer doin' that to a woman, an' her nuthin' but a girl. Now we're goin' to give ye a dose of ye'r own medicine, an' as ye dumped Jean into the harbour, you ye'rself can jist flop around in that frog pond, an' see how it feels. Come on, boys."

As Ben was seized and lifted from the ground, he shrieked and begged for mercy.

"Don't drown me! don't drown me!" he yelled. "For God's sake don't——"

His cries were cut short by the water which closed over his head as he went down on his back beneath the leaves, spawn and slime. He came up like a cork, choking and sputtering, and started to wade to the shore as the water was only up to his arm-pits. But as he attempted to scramble out, he was pushed back and forced to stand in his wretched plight for several minutes. At length he was allowed to leave the pond, and with teeth chattering with cold and fear, he was told to dress himself as quickly as possible.

Mud and slime mingling with the drenched feathers and tar made him look more grotesque than ever as he struggled into his clothes.

"Now clear out," Jake ordered, when Ben was at last dressed, "an' thank ye'r stars that we didn't skin ye alive."

Ben waited for no second bidding, but darted away and ran as he had never run in his life, followed by the shouts, jeers and laughter of the crowd.

The men were now in a dangerous mood and ready for any mischief. The fire of pent-up passion had at last burst forth, and the mob spirit was upon them.

"Squire Hawkins," shouted some one. "Let's give him a dose."

"The Squire, the Squire," passed from mouth to mouth. "His turn next."

What would have happened is hard to tell, had not Douglas at that instant stepped forward. His sudden appearance arrested the men, and they at once stopped their clamour to hear what he had to say.

"I wouldn't do anything more to-night, men," he advised. "You are greatly excited now, and if you are not careful you might do something that you will regret. You have taught Ben a severe lesson, and one he thoroughly deserved. But do not lay hands upon a Justice of the Peace. He can be dealt with in another way."

"How?" asked one of the men.

"I have just come from the city," Douglas explained, "where I have been in consultation with one of the ablest lawyers there. He is a special friend of mine, and he will be here to-morrow. He will deal with Squire Hawkins far more effectively than we can."

"Who is he?" several asked.

"Charles Garton, head of the firm of Garton & Tracey. I think you all have heard of him. It was he who rounded up that bunch of Government grafters last year and forced them to disgorge their ill-gotten gains."

"Sure, sure, we know him," was the cry. "Hurrah for Garton! He'll settle with Hen Hawkins all right."

Seeing that his words were having the desired effect and that the crowd was slowly dispersing, Douglas turned to Jake and told him to come home. Without a word the latter obeyed, and together the two crossed the field to the main road. Once there, Jake's tongue became unloosened.

"Where did ye drop from, John!" he asked. "I didn't know ye was anywhere around."

"I came from the city on the afternoon train, and when your wife told me what was going on, I hurried to the wharf as fast as possible."

"An' did ye see it all?"

"Only the dip in the frog-pond, but I could easily guess the rest."

Douglas did not go home with Jake, but parted from him at the road leading to the professor's house. He wished to see Nell, as he had many things to tell her.

He received a hearty welcome, and felt very much at home as he sat by the professor's side and told him about his visit to the city, and of his return to Rixton just in time to see Ben's plunge into the frog-pond.

Nell's face grew white and a startled expression came into her eyes as Douglas related what the men of the place had done that night. Her concern was not for Ben, but for those responsible for his punishment. She felt sure that Simon Stubbles would take some speedy method of revenge, and that the first object of his attack would be the man sitting near her father. She wished to warn him of his danger. But how could she speak and not reveal her keen interest in his welfare?

"Have you had any supper?" she asked so suddenly that Douglas looked somewhat surprised.

"No, I have not had time to think of eating," he replied.

"Then you must have something right away," and Nell rose to her feet, glad of an opportunity to be moving about in order to hide her excitement.

Douglas begged her not to mind as he could get a bite when he went home. But Nell would not listen to his protests, and in a short time she brought in a tray containing a fresh, boiled egg, several slices of excellent home-made bread, cake and tea.

This act of thoughtfulness touched Douglas deeply, and the look that he gave Nell brought the colour back to her cheeks and made her very happy. As he ate, he told about his visit to the city, and especially about the evening he had spent with the Gartons. He said nothing, however, about what the lawyer had told him concerning Simon Stubbles' financial difficulties; neither did he say anything about the recovery of the Big Chief mining concern.

It was about ten o'clock when Douglas bade the professor good-night.

"I am anxious to hear how you are getting on with your book," he told him. "But we can have a long talk when I come again."

Nell accompanied Douglas to the front door, and for a while they stood there looking out upon the beautiful night. Then Douglas told her about Simon Stubbles' financial embarrassment, and how he had appealed to Garton for assistance. By the light of the moon he could see Nell's face which, so he thought, was more beautiful than ever, owing to the serious expression depicted upon it. He could not divine the nature of her thoughts, but when he mentioned the good news of the Big Chief mine, she gave a cry of joy, and her face brightened.

"I can hardly believe it is true," and she clasped her hands before her. "Are you sure there has been no mistake?"

"None at all, Mr. Garton will be here to-morrow, and he will take over your interest in the mine, providing your father agrees."

"Oh, he will agree all right. What a joy it will be to us all," and she turned her grateful eyes toward her companion's face.

It was difficult for Douglas at that moment not to reveal to Nell all that was in his heart. He longed to tell her of his love, to clasp her in his arms, and to claim her as his own. But no, he must wait. He would not speak to her until he had thrown off his disguise. He believed that she cared for him, perhaps loved him. But what would she think if she knew who he really was, and what a deceiver he had been?

These thoughts flashed through his mind with lightning rapidity. He could hardly trust himself to speak, so they both stood there strangely silent.

"I must go now," and Douglas reached out his hand. "I shall see you to-morrow."

As Douglas' hand closed over Nell's he held it for a few seconds, and it was a great joy to him that she did not try to draw it away. Quickly stooping, he touched her hand with his lips, and then without another word he left her and walked rapidly away from the house.

Sometime later, in the solitude of her own room, Nell's lips pressed the spot where the kiss had fallen. Her eyes were bright with a new-found joy, and her face was radiant with the happiness of love.



CHAPTER XXVIII

KNUCKLING UNDER

Simon Stubbles was very angry at what had taken place the previous evening. He was troubled, as well, over his financial difficulties, for he knew that if he could not raise the ten thousand dollars he was a ruined man. Even now he was aware that his influence in Rixton was waning, and what would it be if the crash should come? He had dominated the people because of his position and supposed wealth. They had bowed to his slightest will, and had allowed him to rule. But now they were taking matters into their own hands, and had inflicted a most humiliating punishment upon his only son.

Squire Hawkins was in the room with him this morning, and had related in detail what had happened to Ben.

"It is most disgraceful, sir, and you must punish the ringleaders at once," he told him. "That will teach the others a lesson."

"And who are the ringleaders?" Stubbles asked.

"Why, you know, don't you? They are Jake Jukes and Tom Totten; both very dangerous men."

"And who put them up to the job?"

"Did any one?"

"Certainly. It was Jake's hired man; he's the one who did it."

"But he was in the city, so I understand, and didn't get back until the deed was about done."

"H'm," and Stubbles gave a grunt of disgust, "he was the chief mover in the affair, mark my word. I've had my eye on that fellow ever since he came to the place. He's a stirrer up of trouble. I knew it from the first, and did my best to get rid of him, but he defied me and has remained, notwithstanding my orders for him to leave."

"Then it will be necessary to make an example of him, sir," the Squire replied. "Just say the word, and I shall have him brought before me."

At that instant the door-bell rang, and a few seconds later Douglas and Charles Garton were ushered into the room. Both Stubbles and the Squire sprang to their feet when they beheld the very man they had been denouncing. Stubbles was about to launch forth in hot, angry words when his eye rested upon the lawyer. In an instant his manner changed, and, ignoring Douglas, he rushed forward and seized Garton by the hand.

"This is a very pleasant surprise," he cried. "I had no idea that you were in the place. Allow me to introduce my friend, Squire Hawkins."

Though outwardly affable, both Stubbles and the Squire were very uneasy at the arrival of Jake's hired man in company with the ablest lawyer in the city. What does it mean? each asked himself, and anxiously awaited further developments.

"I have come to see you on special business, Mr. Stubbles," the lawyer began, "and as my time is limited, I wish to discuss the matter with you at once."

"Why, certainly," Stubbles returned. "We can be as private here as anywhere, sir. Your—er—companion can wait for you at the store."

"No, I wish him to stay where he is," Garton replied.

"Do you wish Squire Hawkins to remain, too?" Stubbles anxiously enquired.

"That is for you to decide. It is immaterial to me, at present, whether he goes or stay, though I wish to speak to him later."

"He might as well remain, then," Stubbles replied. "We have been bosom friends for years, and I always take him into my confidence. He is a man to be relied upon."

"I shall come to the point at once, Mr. Stubbles," the lawyer began. "You have written to me telling of your financial difficulties, and asking for a loan of ten thousand dollars."

Squire Harkins stared in amazement at these words. His weak lower jaw dropped, and his mouth flew suddenly open. This was certainly a remarkable revelation.

"But before I go further," the lawyer continued, "I would like to know the cause of your unfortunate situation. It is a great surprise, for you have been doing a big business."

"I know it," and Stubbles' eyes dropped. "I would not be in this position to-day but for my family. My daughters, I regret to say, have not been as careful as they might have been, but my son is really the one who has ruined me. He has spent my money lavishly and extravagantly, and though I have reasoned with him many a time, it was to no avail. I know I have been weak, and the money that should have been used in connection with my business has gone to him. There, you have my confession, sir," and the unhappy man mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.

"And ten thousand dollars will tide you over the trouble, do you think?" Garton asked.

"I am sure of it."

"And what about your son? Will any of it go to him?"

"Not a cent. I am done with him as far as money matters are concerned. He must look out for himself after this. I have been taught a severe lesson."

"And suppose I do not get the money for you, what then?"

"I am ruined."

"Can you not get it elsewhere?"

"No, not that amount. I have tried and failed. Six thousand was the best any one would do. I hope you can favour me, sir," and Stubbles turned his eyes beseechingly upon the lawyer's face.

"It all depends upon my young friend here," Garton replied, "and that is the reason why I have asked him to remain in the room."

"It depends upon him!" Stubbles exclaimed in astonishment, as he looked toward Douglas. "I do not understand your meaning, sir."

"You know him, then?"

"Yes, I have met him several times. He is Jake Jukes' hired man, so I understand."

"And he is the man you have been persecuting ever since he came to this place. Why was that?"

"There was no persecution, I assure you," Stubbles hotly defended. "He made himself most obnoxious to people in general, and for the welfare of the community I ordered him to leave the parish."

"In what way did he make himself obnoxious?"

"He insulted my son one night at a quiet dance in the hall at the Corner, and broke up the gathering."

"And what was your son doing? How did he behave that night? Did you ever think of that?"

As Stubbles did not reply but dropped his eyes to the floor, Douglas turned upon him.

"It was your son, Ben, who made the trouble that night, Mr. Stubbles," he charged. "He acted more like a beast than a human being, and because I interfered and checked him, he started out to have revenge. And how did he do it? In a manly way? Oh, no. He persuaded you to order me from the place, and when I refused to obey, he set men to waylay me at night along the road. He even gave the men liquor to induce them to carry out his evil designs, and then at the trial he blasphemously denied it all. And you," he added, turning to Squire Hawkins, "allowed British justice to be perverted."

"Are you not afraid to make such a charge as that, young man?" the Squire pompously asked. "Do you not already realise the danger you are in from last night's affair? How can you account for that?"

"Yes, that's what I want to know," Stubbles questioned. "Did you not stir up Jake Jukes and others to set upon my son and treat him in a most shameful manner?"

"I knew nothing at all about it," Douglas explained, "until my arrival from the city last night."

"You lie!" and Stubbles stamped furiously upon the floor. "Do you expect me or any one else to believe such a thing as that?"

"Ask Jake and the rest of the men. They know that I had nothing to do with the affair."

"I wouldn't believe what they said if they swore to it on all the Bibles in the world. They are nothing but a pack of curs, and I'll fix them, see if I don't."

"You will do nothing of the kind, Mr. Stubbles," the lawyer quietly remarked. "If you do, not a cent of money do you get from me."

"Keep your money, then," Stubbles retorted. "I'm not going to be brow-beaten by you or any one else, and especially by a farm-hand. I shall get along somehow, but I will have satisfaction for the injury that was committed last night. Ben is my son, and I am going to stand by him no matter what happens."

"Steady, Mr. Stubbles, steady," the lawyer advised. "You must not talk that way. You are not out of deep water yet."

"I will stay in, then, and you can all go to blazes. You want me to back down and say I have been in the fault. But you've got the wrong bull by the horns this time."

"Am I to understand, then, that you will not need the ten thousand dollars from me?" Garton asked.

"No, not under your conditions. You want me to apologise to him," and he nodded toward Douglas. "If I do, you'll let me have the money. Is that it?"

"Mr.—er—Handyman, can speak for himself," Garton replied.

"I am not thinking so much of myself, Mr. Stubbles," Douglas told him, "as of the parish in general. If you agree not to act like a tyrant in the future and not to meddle in Church matters, and stop persecuting every clergyman who comes here unless he bows to your slightest wish, then I am satisfied."

"Do you think I am a fool?" Stubbles flung back. "What impudence! Why, I never heard the like of it before! And I won't allow it! You can go, both of you. I'll attend to my own affairs, sink or swim."

Stubbles rose to his feet, signifying that the discussion was at an end.

"So you don't want the money, then?" Garton asked.

"No, and that's the end of it."

"Very well," and the lawyer rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner, "that's settled. And you intend to prosecute the men who took part in last night's affair?"

"Yes, to the limit of the law, especially that man there," and Stubbles pointed his finger scornfully at Douglas. "He was at the bottom of the trouble, and he shall suffer for it."

"Well, look here, Mr. Stubbles," and Garton rose suddenly to his feet as he spoke, "I warn you that the moment you do that, I shall have your son arrested for attempted murder."

Had Simon Stubbles received a direct blow in the face, he would not have been more surprised than at these words. His eyes bulged in amazement, and he became as pale as death.

"What, what are you saying?" he gasped. "Surely you must be mistaken. Ben, my son! attempted murder!"

"Yes, that was what he did. He pushed a woman over Long Wharf in the city, and left her to her fate. And she would have been drowned but for timely assistance."

"Oh, Lord!" and Stubbles buried his face in his hands. "I knew that Ben was wild, but I had no idea he would do anything like that."

Presently he lifted his eyes to the lawyer's face.

"Are you sure it was Ben?" he asked. "There may have been a mistake. Perhaps it was some one else."

"No, there has been no mistake. It was your son who did it; we have good proof of that."

"And who was the woman? Much depends upon who she is. It may be a case of black-mail."

"It was a girl from your own place, a neighbour of yours, Jean Benton."

With a gurgled groan of abandoned hope, Stubbles sank back and remained huddled in his chair, a pitiable object of misery. The man who had acted the tyrant for years, who hardly knew the meaning of mercy, and had crushed all who opposed him, was now being paid back tenfold. As he had sown, so was he reaping.

"We must go now," the lawyer reminded him, after a few seconds of silence. "But remember, Mr. Stubbles, the instant you lay a charge against Mr. Handyman here, or any of the men who took part in last night's affair, you will know what to expect. And as for you, Mr. Hawkins," and he turned to the Squire, "I shall deal with you later for wilfully perverting justice. You acted with cowardice and partiality at the trial, and you must put up with the consequences."

"Don't do anything, for God's sake!" Hawkins cried, now smitten with a terrible fear. "I will do what you say, but don't take action, I beseech you. It will ruin my business."

This was just what Garton wanted, and an amused twinkle danced in his eyes. He hesitated, however, for a few seconds as if lost in deep thought.

"Very well, then, Mr. Hawkins," he at length replied, "if you are willing to make a public acknowledgment of your wrong decision, I will take no notice this time. As you know from my record, I am not easily turned aside when I once make up my mind. However, I will make an exception this time, if you obey me at once."

"I will, sir, I certainly will. What shall I do?"

"Write out a plain confession of your wrong decision at the trial and post it on the door of your store, or in some other public place, where all can see it. That is what I demand."

"I shall do it at once, sir," came the low response. It was quite evident that the Squire was feeling keenly his humiliation, but there was nothing else for him to do, as he had a great fear and respect for the lawyer standing before him.

"I am glad you are acting like a sensible man," Garton told him. "It will save you a great deal of trouble. I must hurry away now, as it is getting late."

"Wait a minute, sir," Stubbles ordered, as he lifted his haggard face. "I have heard your instructions to the Squire, now what do you want me to do?"

"Why, I thought you didn't want anything more to do with me," the lawyer exclaimed in surprise.

"Oh, that was before I heard what Ben did at Long Wharf. I have changed my mind in the last few minutes, and see things in a different light. He can look out for himself and fight his own battles after this. It's no use for me to cut off my nose to spite my face. My wife and I will be worse than beggars, and my daughters will be thrown upon the world helpless, if I fail in business. Extravagance has brought me to this, and I have been taught a scorching lesson. I need that money, sir, so go ahead and tell me what I must do. It will mean humiliation in either case, so I might as well make the best of a nasty job."

Had Douglas been animated merely by the spirit of revenge, he would have been more than satisfied at the outcome of this interview. But it was only justice he wanted, and the assurance that Simon Stubbles and Squire Hawkins would behave themselves in the future. He felt sure that they would after this severe lesson.

"Suppose we let the matter end," he suggested to the lawyer, when Stubbles had acknowledged his defeat. "If these men are willing to conduct themselves properly in the future, why not give them another chance? I am satisfied if you are."

"Just as you say," the lawyer indifferently replied, as he glanced at his watch. "It's up to you."

"Well, let it rest at that, then. I don't wish to carry the matter any further. Give Mr. Stubbles the money, and save him from failure."

At these words Stubbles sprang to his feet, while a new light of hope gleamed in his eyes.

"And you won't humiliate me?" he asked. "You won't demand a public confession?"

"Not if you agree to our wishes, and I think you understand now what they are."

"I do, I surely do, and I shall see that they are fulfilled," he cried.

"Let us shake on it, then," and Douglas reached out his hand.

Stubbles seized it, and as he did so tears came into his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. It was the spirit of forgiveness that had moved him and caused his emotion.

"That is good," and Garton smiled approvingly. "I hope I shall never be called to this parish on such a business again."

"You never will," Stubbles emphatically replied. "But come and visit me again, sir, and bring Mr. Handyman with you. I don't think you will find anything amiss then, eh, Hawkins?"

"Sure, sure," the Squire fervently replied, as he held out his hand to bid Garton and Douglas good-bye. "I think that things will be different in Rixton after this."



CHAPTER XXIX

THE CHALLENGE

For two days there was intense excitement throughout the entire parish of Rixton. The one great topic of conversation was the punishment Ben Stubbles had received. There was considerable anxiety as well, for those who had taken part in the affair fully expected that Simon Stubbles would hit back hard. Just what he would do, they had no idea, but they realised that it was not his nature to overlook an insult, especially to his only son. It was, therefore, a great relief when the news spread that nothing would be done, and that Simon Stubbles had agreed to allow the matter to rest.

How this information leaked out was never fully known, though it was surmised that Squire Hawkins had given away the secret. Many were the stories in circulation, and the slightest incident was greatly enlarged according to the imagination of the narrator. It was believed that Jake Jukes' hired man had been a detective in disguise, or anyway, a man who had considerable influence. People recalled everything he had said and done since coming to the place. His wrestling powers were freely commented upon, as well as his ability to play the violin. They remembered, too, how he had faced Ben Stubbles at the dance, and had defeated single-handed the men sent to waylay him along the road at night. In short, he became such a mystery to all, that they began to look upon him as a hero, and ascribed to him wonderful powers, somewhat akin to those bestowed upon heroes of ancient legends. This feeling became intensified owing to Douglas' absence from the parish since the day of Simon Stubbles' humiliation. He had gone with the clever lawyer at a break-neck speed, so it was said, and had not returned.

But after two days the people of Rixton had something else to talk about. It was the grim spectre of war which had suddenly appeared, and sent a chill to every heart. The newspapers were full of it, and told of the clash between France and Germany, and of the base violation of Belgium by the advancing Huns. Then came England's declaration of war, and all knew that Canada, as a part of the British Empire, must fight, too. People were hungry for the least scrap of news, and watched anxiously for the mailman to make his daily appearance. But even then they were not satisfied, and men crowded the wharf, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the evening boat from the city, that they might obtain the latest news. When word came that a Contingent was being formed for overseas service, then all were aware that Canada was getting ready for her part in the titanic conflict.

Professor Strong was greatly excited over the war, and for once he forgot about his beloved book. Intensely patriotic, he wondered why the young men of the parish did not enlist. He longed to be young again, that he might set them the example, and he talked eagerly to his daughters about England's greatness, and related story after story of her mighty deeds in the past. He was familiar, as well, with the scenes of the conflict, for he had once visited Belgium, and had even been at Liege. The old man wept when he heard how the Germans had captured it, and were sweeping down upon Brussels.

"Just wait," he told them, "until the English and the French forces meet those devils, and then there will be a different tale to tell. There will be no goose-trotting, mark my word. Oh, if I were only able to go!"

Nell was as greatly interested as her father and Nan. But through all the excitement she could not banish Douglas from her heart and mind, and she wondered what had become of him. She could not easily forget the last time she had seen him in company with the lawyer. She recalled how he had turned as the car was whirling him away, and waved his hand to her as she watched him from the door. Empty had told her later how the two had paid a visit to his mother, and of their brief talk with Jean. The subject of the conversation Empty did not know, and he felt quite crestfallen, for his reputation was at stake. But he tried to make up for this lack of knowledge by telling of the numerous stories which were in circulation about Douglas. Nell listened to them all, though she made no comment. But deep in her heart she believed that there was considerable truth in what she heard. That John Handyman was some one in disguise, she had imagined for some time. She had reasoned it over and over again in her own mind, and had often lain awake at night thinking about it. But why had he come to Rixton? And why should a man with his ability work as a farm-hand? If his health had been poor she could have somewhat understood it, for she had read of such cases. The more she thought, the more puzzled she became. Anyway, she was sure that he was a good man, and a gentleman, for not once could she remember the slightest discourtesy on his part to any one.

Two weeks had now passed since Douglas left the place. No one had heard a word about him, and Nell at times believed that she would never see him again. That she had met him and had talked with him, seemed almost like a beautiful dream. She lived in the memory of it, and when she had a little spare time to herself she visited the old pine tree, where they had stood and talked on that bright afternoon.

It was on one of these occasions that, instead of remaining by the tree, she strolled along the path they had travelled that day, until she came to the edge of the cleared field. Beyond was the church, standing bare and lonely, so she thought. She recalled how Douglas had spoken about his visit there, and the sad neglect of the building. A desire now came upon her to see it for herself, so, crossing the field, in a few minutes she was at the front door. To her surprise she found it open, and entering, her astonishment was still greater when she saw Joe Benton hard at work cleaning the floor and the seats. Upon the old man's face was an expression of happiness, and his eyes brightened as he paused in his work.

"I'm getting ready for the service," he explained in reply to Nell's question. "There was no one else willing to do it, so I undertook the job."

"But I didn't hear about any service," Nell replied. "When will it be held?"

"Next Sunday. A notice was posted on the store this morning by Simon Stubbles. He got word from the Bishop, so I understand."

"Is the new clergyman coming?" Nell asked, now greatly interested.

"I can't say, miss. It may be the Bishop himself, for all I know. But as this is Friday, there isn't much time to get things ready. I wonder what the Bishop would say if he could have seen the church as it was when I began work. It was certainly disgraceful."

"But who is to play the organ?" Nell enquired. "And the hymns should be practised by those who are willing to come into the choir. Is any one attending to that?"

"I am, miss. Si asked me if I would speak to you, and I was going to your house on my way home. I hope you will play, for then I know everything will be all right with the music. Just try the organ, and play a few tunes. It is a long time since I have heard them, and it will help me with my work."

"Not now," Nell smilingly replied. "I am going to dust the chancel and the vestry; that is, if you will let me."

"Sure, sure, go ahead. You have as much right here as I have. We all have the same privileges in the Father's House, for we are all His children."

Joe had swept the chancel and vestry room, so Nell dusted them both with great thoroughness. She was very happy at this work, just why she could not explain. When she was through, she polished the brass Altar vases, which were much tarnished. Then she went out of doors and gathered an abundance of wild flowers, and going into the vestry she arranged these artistically in the vases. Stepping back, she viewed her handiwork.

"How will they do?" she asked, as Joe just then looked in at the door. "Don't you think they will suit any one?"

"I should say so," was the enthusiastic reply. "Even the Bishop himself couldn't find any fault with them."

When the flowers had been placed upon the Communion Table, and the last book had been carefully dusted and arranged, Nell sat down at the little organ and began to play. Joe came and sat down in one of the choir seats at the left. Hymn after hymn Nell played, and when she at last stopped, Joe stepped softly to her side.

"Won't you play one more?" he asked. "Just one; it's my favourite."

"Why, certainly. What is it?"

"The Ninety and Nine. It's number seven-seventy-nine. And won't you sing it, miss? I haven't heard it sung for a long time, though I read it most every day."

Having played the air, Nell began to sing, and as her clear, sweet voice welled forth, Joe leaned eagerly forward so as not to miss a word. There were tears in his eyes, but his face was beaming with joy and peace. Nell sang the hymn through, and when she finished and the last throbbing notes of the organ ceased, a sobbing moan drifted up the aisle of the old church. Both Nell and Joe turned quickly around, and to their surprise they saw a woman kneeling upon the floor with her face buried in her hands.

"Jean, my Jean!" Joe cried, as he sprang from his seat, hurried down the aisle and caught his daughter in his arms. Then there was silence, broken only by the sobs of the kneeling girl.

Nell stood near and watched them, uncertain what to do. She was deeply affected by this scene, and thought it best that the two should be alone. Softly she moved toward the door, and had almost reached it, when Jean sprang after her and caught her by the arm.

"Don't go, Nell," she cried, "until you have forgiven me. Tell me you forgive me," and once more Jean fell upon her knees and seized Nell's hand in hers, and held it with a firm grip.

Stooping, Nell placed her disengaged arm lovingly about the girl's body, and kissed her on the cheek.

"I forgive you all, Jean," she said. "So get up. Why should you kneel to me?"

"And you know? You understand?" Jean asked, lifting up her pale face.

"Yes, I think I know everything, and you have always had my sincere sympathy. But how did you happen to come here?"

"I wanted to see the old church once more, where I used to worship, and was so happy in the years now gone forever. I did not expect to find any one here, and was greatly surprised when I heard you singing. It was that old hymn which affected me so much, and broke me down completely."

"I am so glad that you came just when you did," Nell replied. "You have been in my thoughts day and night, and I knew that you would come to see me some day. You will come, will you not?"

But Jean shook her head and looked longingly around the church, as if taking a final farewell of all the objects which were so dear and familiar to her.

"I am going away," she quietly said, "and may never be back again."

"Don't say that, Jean," her father implored. "Why should you leave us when we want you so much? Your mother's heart is aching for her little girl."

"I know it, I know it, daddy dear. I have been very bad and cruel to you both. But I have something to wipe out, and I shall never rest content until I have done what I can to atone for my past sad mistake in life."

"Where are you going, Jean?" Nell asked.

"I cannot tell you now. But it is a great work to which I am going, and some day you will be proud of me, and so will the people of Rixton. They scorn me now, and they surely have good reason for doing so."

"But, Jean darling, you will tell us where you are going before you leave, will you not?" her father asked. "You will come home first?"

"Yes, I shall go with you now. And in a few days you will all know where I am going, and what I expect to do. Come, daddy, let us go. Good-bye, Nell, I shall see you before I leave."

Taking her father by the arm, she led him from the church, and up the lane leading to the main road. Nell watched them until they had disappeared from view. She then closed the church and hurried across the field, for it was getting late and her father would be waiting for her. But her heart was lighter than it had been for days. Jean was her old self again, and she was so thankful. But she wondered where she was going, and what she was about to do. That it was something noble, she could tell by the expression of hope in Jean's eyes, and the look of animation which had overspread her face as she told about her intended departure.

When Nell reached the church Sunday afternoon, she found a large number of people already there. It had been rumoured that the Bishop was to hold the service, and it was expected that he would speak about the war, and also have something to say concerning the new clergyman who was to come to the parish.

Nell had not been idle since Friday, and Saturday night the first choir practice in months had been held. The members were now all in their places as she entered the church and went at once to the organ. Having arranged her books, she next placed a list of hymns in a hymn book and took it into the vestry room for the clergyman's use. It was a most perfect August afternoon, and through the open vestry came the fresh air laden with perfume of meadow and forest, and the music of birds.

Having placed the book on the little table, Nell looked around the room to see that everything was arranged in its proper place. And as she stood there, an auto swung up and stopped just outside the open door. Glancing quickly around, Nell saw a man in khaki alight from the car, with a small grip in his hand, and step into the vestry. He paused in pleased surprise when he saw who was in the room, and at once held out his hand.

"Oh, I am so glad to see you, Miss Strong," he began. "I did not expect to find you here."

"Mr. Handyman!" Nell gasped, as she allowed her hand to remain in his for a few seconds. "I had no idea of seeing you here to-day. Where is the clergyman?"

"Right here," Douglas smiled. "Don't you understand?"

"You!" and the colour suddenly left Nell's cheeks. It seemed as if she had not heard aright.

"Yes, I am to take the service to-day. Will you forgive me?"

Nell stood for a few seconds uncertain what to do or say. Her mind was in a tumult. She had imagined many things as to Douglas' identity, but never once had she suspected him of being a clergyman.

"There are the hymns," she at length told him, steadying her voice as much as possible. "It is service time, and the people are getting impatient."

Without another word she walked out of the vestry. She tried to be calm, but her hands trembled as she began to play, and it appeared to her that all must notice her agitation. Never had the church seemed so hot, and she longed to be away by herself that she might think over the startling discovery.

There was almost a sensation in the church that afternoon when Douglas appeared and gave out the opening hymn. An intense silence ensued, broken only by the sweet organ notes. Very few in the congregation thought of singing, as they were too busy whispering to one another. Jake Jukes stood dumbfounded. He could not believe his eyes, and paid no heed to his wife who kept nudging his arm. Empty's mouth was wide open and his eyes were fairly starting out of his head. His mother, too, was greatly affected, and her hand trembled so much that she could hardly hold her hymn book. Even Joe Benton forgot to follow the words, and gazed intently upon the clergyman.

But the greatest feeling of consternation was in the pew where the Stubbles sat. They were all there except Ben, and the sisters were dressed in their finest. For once they forgot about their clothes, and stared with undisguised wonder upon the white-robed man before them. Simon Stubbles stood like a statue. It had taken him only an instant to comprehend the whole situation. He knew now why the clergyman had come to Rixton disguised as a farm-hand. It was to spy out the land, and to ascertain what was the trouble in Church matters. Fear and anger were blended as he watched Douglas' every movement, and a deep sigh escaped his lips as he realised his helplessness.

No one slept during the sermon that day. Nell was the only one who did not hear it all. She knew that Douglas was explaining his reasons for coming to Rixton in disguise, and he explained them well. But her mind wandered, and she thought of many things which had happened during the past weeks and which at the time had puzzled her. But now she saw them in a different light. Her attention was arrested as Douglas began to tell why he was not coming to the parish as rector. The war had made the change. He had offered to go to the front as chaplain, and he had been accepted. His friend, Charles Garton, was raising a battalion and men were being called to the Colours. "How many will go from this parish?" he asked in conclusion. "Many of you are of Loyalist descent, so I believe, and you cannot easily forget what your ancestors endured in their devotion to the flag of the clustered crosses. All that the old flag stands for is now at stake, and every one must do his part to keep it floating as proudly as of yore. I now challenge the young men of this parish to enlist as soon as possible, and unite with the battalion which is being formed in the city. If you do, I shall be your chaplain, and a great pleasure it will be for us to go overseas together to support the brave men who are so anxiously awaiting the Column of Relief. Do not delay. Make up your minds at once. The need is great. Your King and country are calling you."

Never had Nell heard such singing in that old church as she did in the closing hymn of "Onward, Christian Soldiers." All sang it with a new spirit and a power that could not be mistaken. The sermon had made a deep impression, and it was discussed for weeks afterwards.

When the service was over, Douglas was at once surrounded by an enthusiastic crowd, for every one wished to shake hands with him and give him a word of welcome. He mentally compared this reception with his first arrival in the parish. It was really a victory, and he felt that should he remain he would not be lacking in loyal supporters.

But there was one person Douglas wished to see most of all, and as soon as he could free himself from the throng, he turned around toward the organ. But he looked in vain, for Nell was not there, neither was she anywhere in the church.



CHAPTER XXX

BY THE OLD PINE TREE

While Douglas was talking to the people, Nell had slipped out of the church by way of the vestry room. She wanted to be alone that she might think. Her head was aching, and the fresh air made her feel better. She went straight across the field toward her own home, following the path she had so often travelled. This led her to the old pine where she and Douglas had stood on that beautiful day which now seemed so long ago.

Here she stopped and looked out over the river. The water was as clear as glass, and she could see her reflection in the clear depths. Nell believed she was safe here from all interruption, for those who had been at church would go home by the main road. Her mind was greatly agitated, and after a while she sat down by the side of the tree and leaned her head against the trunk. Her face bore a strained look, and her eyes were dry. She felt that she must now banish Douglas from her mind forever. Why had he deceived her? she asked herself over and over again. Why had he come into her life, bringing such joy to her lonely heart, and then dispelling it all in one brief hour? If he had only remained the same ordinary man as when working for Jake Jukes, how happy she would be. She could love him then with all the ardour of a true, pure woman. But a clergyman in disguise! The thought repelled and stung her, even though she knew why he had done it. Henceforth, he would be a changed man, so she believed, hedged about by the dignity and conventions of his position, and no longer the free and companionable John Handyman as she had known him.

As she sat thus and thought, her mind gradually grew calmer, and she became more self-possessed. She even chided herself for feeling so depressed. What was John Handyman to her, anyway? Merely an acquaintance, whom she had known but a few weeks. She really knew nothing about his past life, for he had been most guarded in speaking about himself. Perhaps he was already engaged to some girl, and he may have been with her during his absence from Rixton. She had no guarantee that he loved her, although she believed that he liked to be with her. She recalled how he had held her hand in his and had looked into her eyes in a way that had thrilled her whole being. But no matter where he might go or what he might become, the memory would be ever dear to her. He would never know of her love for him, and the world would not have the slightest suspicion of the deep things of her heart. She would go on her way as in the past, and none would be the wiser.

Nell was now more like her old self, and as people knew her. Her self-reliant and reserved nature had always added a certain dignity to her personal charms. It would, therefore, have been a great surprise to many could they have looked into her heart on this beautiful afternoon and discovered the secret. They would then have found how deep are the real wells of life, that they who feel most keenly say the least, and that the passionate love of a noble woman is often expressed in simple outward acts of gentleness, mercy and truth.

For about half an hour Nell sat there, although the passing of time never once occurred to her. She might have remained thus for the rest of the afternoon, had she not been suddenly aroused by the sound of approaching footsteps. Glancing around, great was her astonishment and embarrassment to see the very one who was in her thoughts hurrying toward her.

As Nell sprang to her feet, her heart was beating rapidly, and the rich blood mantled her cheeks and brow, making her more charming than ever, so Douglas thought. His face was radiant, and his eyes glowed with the intensity of love. His impulsive nature could brook no further delay, neither did mere formal words of affection fall from his lips. Instead, he stepped quickly forward, caught Nell in his arms, and imprinted a kiss upon her trembling lips.

So great was Nell's surprise at this sudden and audacious act, that she was rendered almost powerless. A joy surpassing words possessed her, and she longed to remain forever in her lover's strong embrace. But in a few seconds, a feeling of maidenly reserve swept over her, and she tore away the encircling arms.

"How dare you do such a thing?" she demanded. But the tone of her voice and the expression in her eyes caused Douglas to laugh with rapturous joy.

"You must get up more fire than that if you expect to frighten me," he told her.

"But how could you? How did you dare without permission?" Nell faltered.

"My heart gave permission; you must blame it. And, oh, Nell, tell me that you love me," he pleaded. "If you do, then you will forgive everything. Surely your love must respond to mine."

To these passionate words Nell made no reply. She was too greatly overcome to utter a word so sudden and overwhelming had been the change during the last few minutes. Her form trembled from the vehemence of her emotion, and then the tears, which for so long had been restrained, came to her relief, and, sinking upon the ground, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed like a child.

"Nell! Nell!" Douglas cried, dropping by her side, and placing his arms tenderly around her. "What have I done? Have I offended you? Oh, tell me; tell me quick. I didn't mean to make you feel badly. Forgive me; please forgive me!"

"I am only foolish, that is all," was the sobbing reply, as Nell lifted her head and endeavoured to brush away the tears. "I didn't mean to give way like this. But I am weak, and all this is so unexpected."

"And you forgive me? You are not offended?"

In reply, Nell threw her arms impetuously about his neck, and laid her face close to his.

"There is my answer," she whispered. "Are you satisfied now?"

Never had the old pine witnessed such a scene of perfect bliss as that which then took place at its foot. It gave no sign, however, that it saw anything, but kept its secret well. It was in league with the happy lovers, and never babbled its knowledge.

"It was here where I first saw you, Nell," Douglas told her, as they nestled close to each other upon the sand. "How well I remember that night, and how entranced I was with your playing."

"Don't speak of that time any more," Nell pleaded. "It seems now like a terrible dream. Oh, how that man followed me, and tried to get me in his power."

"But Ben is gone now, darling, and can trouble you no more. It is not likely that he will ever come back to this place. He has been taught a severe lesson, and I trust it will do him good."

"Oh, I hope so," and a tremor shook Nell's body. "I want to forget him and those awful days that are past."

"And you must forget, Nell, in the joy of the present. Oh, I can hardly believe it is true that you love me. I was almost frightened out of my wits lest you should refuse me."

"You acted like it, didn't you?" Nell bantered, turning her happy face to his. "Why, you swept down upon me like a cyclone, and had me in your arms before I could utter a word of protest."

"I was afraid, darling; that was the reason. You see, I knew what a shock I gave you when I bounced into the vestry. And then all through the service I was watching you, and noticed how agitated you were. I wanted to speak to you at once when the service was over, but, no, I was captured by the whole congregation and when at last I was able to look around, you were nowhere to be seen. Suspecting that you might be here, I hurried over as fast as I could, and when I beheld you standing by this tree looking a thousand times more lovely than ever, I lost my head completely, and, oh, you know the rest. It was all your fault, darling, and so don't blame me. If you will persist in being so charming, you must put up with the result."

"But was that really the whole reason?" Nell asked. "Wasn't there something else? You said you were afraid, did you not?"

"Now you are cornering me," Douglas laughed. "Yes, I confess I was afraid of the questions you might ask about my strange behaviour in coming to Rixton in disguise. I felt that you were offended, and so great was my love, I was in no mood to have parts of the Catechism hurled at me. Just imagine my standing before you like a child, and being asked, 'What is your name?' and meekly answering, 'Douglas Stanton, ma'm.' Then, 'Who gave you this name?' and I would say that my godfathers and godmothers gave it to me in my baptism. And you would ask me, 'Why are you so ashamed of your name that you take another?' Now, as that is not in the Catechism, it would have been more difficult for me to answer, and so I would have blundered and stumbled and made such a fool of myself that you would have despised me. No, I could not endure that, and so I acted with audacious boldness. You are not sorry, are you?"

"No, I am glad now, although it was a terrible shock to me at first. I had no idea that you loved me so much. Isn't it wonderful!"

"I loved you ever since I first saw you, Nell," and Douglas drew her closer to him. "And I shall love you always. Nothing can separate us now."

"But this war will," was the low response. "You are going away, and I may never see you again. How can I get along without you?"

"Only for a while, darling. I shall come back to you some day, and while we are parted from each other, our love will support us and keep us strong and brave. But I shall not be leaving for several weeks yet, so during that time we can be so happy together."

"I know it, I know it," Nell replied. "But I am so selfish, and now that I am sure of your love I want you with me always. I must remember, though, what so many are sacrificing for the sake of their King and country, and I must be brave, too. I suppose others will be going from this parish. I do not see how the young men can remain behind, especially after your challenge to them to-day."

"I believe a number of them will go at once. Several spoke to me after service and expressed their intention of enlisting."

"I am so glad that the people this afternoon were kind to you, Douglas. How terrible if they had been angry at what you did. It would make it very hard for me when you are away, as I should feel so badly to listen to their severe criticisms."

"You need not worry about that now, Nell. The people are very friendly, and most willing to do all they can to assist the new clergyman who will come here in my stead. I do not know his name, but the Bishop told me that he would be most careful in his choice of a man. Even Simon Stubbles shook hands with me this afternoon, and wished me good luck. Most likely he is delighted to know that I am leaving the place. Anyway, I am certain that he will behave himself after this."

"How I wish I could go, too," Nell remarked, as she played with her left hand in the yielding sand. "But I am only a woman, and must remain behind."

"You have a noble work to do here, Nell. Your father needs your care, and, besides, the thought of you will cheer and encourage me. And I shall need your prayers as well. I am sure they will help me no matter where I am. But, there, suppose we let the future take care of itself. We have each other now, and we need not worry about troubles that may never come."

"Perhaps it is better," and Nell gave a little sigh. "But I feel selfish in being so very happy. I am thinking of poor Jean. I suppose her love was just as deep as mine, and now she is broken-hearted. I wonder what will become of her? She is going away, so she told me when I saw her in the church on Friday, but she did not say what she is going to do."

"Why, I forgot to tell you," Douglas replied. "The thought of you banished everything else from my mind. Jean is going overseas as a Red Cross nurse."

"As a nurse!" Nell exclaimed.

"Yes. Major Garton, he is that now, you see, took a great interest in her, and when he found that she had graduated as a nurse from the city hospital, he was able to get her the position without any difficulty."

"And did she ask to be allowed to go?"

"Yes, she made application, and begged Garton to do what he could for her. I believe she is quite happy at the thought of going."

"Oh, I am so glad," and Nell clasped her hands before her. "She will have something to live for now, and I know that she will do a noble work."

"So you will have nothing more to worry about now, will you, darling?" and Douglas kissed her again. "Everything has come out all right at last, as it will in the future."

"I have no fears nor troubles now since I have your love," and Nell lifted her shining eyes to his.

"Not even your father and Nan when we tell them of our happiness, eh? Perhaps they may make things uncomfortable for us."

"No, I am not afraid of them," Nell laughingly replied. "Father is very fond of you, and Nan will be delighted when she hears of it."

"And Empty will have a great piece of news to tell, won't he? We must go over to-morrow and get Mrs. Dempster's blessing."

"And dear old Joe's, too. His will be a blessing worth while."

"What about Jake? We must not forget him, and his 'Great punkins!' Why, he'll need a whole field of them to express his astonishment."

They both laughed heartily like two children at the thought of the good-natured farmer. Then Nell rose to her feet.

"My, it is getting late!" she exclaimed, "and what will father say? We must go home at once. We shall have a supper to-night that will be worth while."

Along the sandy beach they made their way. The old pine seemed to stand a little straighter, as if proud of what it had just witnessed. The birds flitted to and fro, and their chirpings sounded like sweet congratulations. Even the branches of the trees along the shore appeared to bend a little lower to bestow their silent benediction. All the sweet and beautiful things of Nature were in glad attune with the young lovers as they turned their faces toward the unknown future lying golden and mystic in the lap of the years.

THE END