The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

JOSEPH’S COAT. Joe left Barton next m‘o'rning, bufi before he did so he had another interview with his Ion. [Registered in accordance with the Copyrigh ‘Acfl of 1875.] “ Understand,” said Joe, “ that I mean to do my best for you. And understand that the best I can do for you seems to me to be to set your nose to the grindstone and keep it there. Mr. Keen will find you employ- ment, and everything you hope from me will depend upon the way in which you conduct yourself. You will have the menliness to tell your mother that you need no further help from her, and that you are resolved to work out by yourself an atonement for your own misdeeds. If you accept one penny piece from her, you forfeit all claim on me. Try and be a man." said Joe with a shaky voice. " Try to be honest. And so, good bye, sir. When I can shake hands with you without feeling soiled by 1t, I will.” Having made arrangements with thel lawyer for the furtherance of his ideas con- cerning young George, Joe started back for his hotel, and on his lonely journey he set himself to unravel the tangled strands of the net which held him. He had made up he mind not to reveal himself to Dinah, and, being all along in a mood to do penance, he held hard to his resolve-â€" held the harder for his own strong inclination, to go against it. ‘ There was an intense longe ing in his heart to comfort her, and there was a dreadful fear that the proclamation of himself would but bring a new sorrow to her. He put by that trying problem for the time. as he had done before, not yet being able to solve it. And then he set to work to think about Uncle George. It was beyond doubt that Uncle George had been a rascal;but then, who was Joe Bushell that he should judge anybody, or be severe beyond necessity even with so bad an old man as his benevolent relative had proved? " I have given him instructions.” said Sir Sydneywith preternatuml gravity, belied by 9. twinkle in his eye as he looked at Joe. “not to disturb any arrangements on which you may have acted up to this time, and I hope you'l_l get on well together.” “ Very weli; sir,” said Mr. Bowker, regard ing 11119 new pomqr‘wigh no pgrticglar fqu; “ Why shohld one scoundrel venture to ba hard upon another 7 ' Joe asked himself. “Hv’s beer} a had 1013, but so have I.” “ Mr. Bowker,” said Sir Sydney tskmg a seat on a rough hewn stool in the office, “this is Mr. Jones, who will take Gsvan’s place for the time being.”r 1:10 would have justice and no more. Even if out George got better, it was impossible that he should fight the case; there were too many dangers in it. And if he died. there would be an end of everything so far as he was concerned, for Dinah could claim the money. Yet there would be a necessity for exposure then, and Brush had kept her secret so long and so closely that even for her child’s sake J 09 could see that it would be hard to proclaim it to the world. There was one thing which seemed possible for the returned exile to do. If old George should recover the use of his intellect, though only for a day, Joe hsd power enough over him to compel him in any way he choose. He could compel him to make surrender to Dinah and to keep his secret. Such a hold as Joe had upon him no men could afford to disregard or defy. And out of this reflection arose a. plan, and out of this plan arose in turn the incidents which closed the romance of J oe’s story. Joe took a. look at Mr. Bowker, and gave a little start on beholding him. Mr. Bowker, in spite of the years which intervened between the present and Joe’s knowledge of him, was still recognizable as one who had done odd work for Joe’s father in his youth. Mr. Bow- ker, for his part, looked at Joe, but with no unusual regard. Once arrived in Birmingham, he had a horse saddled and rode over to his old chum Cheston. “ Cheeton.” he broke out at once on meet ing him, “ I want to be constantly in the neighborhood of my Uncle George. I want to be the first to know of his getting better; and if he needs any persuasion when the tima comes, I want to be on the spot to give it." “ He‘ll want no persuasion,” said Ches ton. " The sword hangs by a hair, and he’ll be precious hasty in getting from under it." “ This way, Mr. Jones, if you please,” cried Cheston with a broad grin. “ Ah! that’s you Mr. Bowker I I wish to speak to ybu. Come into the ofiice.” “He might recover his senses, and than die in a day or two, before anything was done," {used Joe. “ Then there would be a disputed will, and no end of publicity to the case.” " The doctor thinks that he’ll live to be moderately strong ngain,”iaid Cheston. “ Leave me to my own plan,” said Joe with something of his youihful obstinacy. “ I want to watch him, I went to be near him to lend a helping hand to my wife’s case if it. should be needed. And I want you to give me a berth of some sort." “ Eh ‘2” said the Baronet. “ I don’t want a. salary," said Joe. mis understanding the cause of his friend’s as~ tonishmem; “ I went something to do, just to prevent my being in the neighborhood from looking odd.My name is Jones.”he went on with a faint unmirthl‘ul grin. “ It is in the family to take aliases. I am an employe of Sir Sydney Cheston’s. I do anything which allows me to live in the parish unno- ticed and unobserved. Nobody will know me. Give me my way, Cheston. And I’ll tell you what it is besides. I want to see the old place and some of the old feces, ii there any left. I’m number sixteen at the hotel. There’s no name on my luggage. Not. a soul knows me except yourself and young Keen and that wrenched boy of mime. Let me have my way.” Every yard they drove had at one time been familiar to young Joe Bushell. and middle aged Joe Bfishell remembered the way very well. Alter a mile or two they passed the very field in which young Joe had first kissed Dinah and told her how fond he was of her. Poor Dinah l The kiss had been a betrayal, though he had not meant it so. A mile or two later came George Bushell‘a house, and a little further on the Saracen, all atuccoed and bedizened with plate glass and‘gilt lettering. Then before long the dog cart turned into a lumpy lane and began to jolt and roll in a threatening manner, and in awhile, rounding an artificial hill of mine re~ fuse. they came in sight of the tall stack of the Buzzard and the raw red brickwork of the Buzzard’s offices. A miner came forward tohold the Batonet‘s hone. “ Well,” said the Baronet, half laughing and half puzzlei, " what can you do ? Do you know anymiug about mines? You used to, but things are changed a good deal, and it’s a horn time ago." “ What !” cried Gheaton with a merry laugh. “ Drive a mere mine manager 1 Me I Well, I don’t mind giving you a lift. ' I’ll order the dog cart." “ I worked in a coal mine in the Dominion," said gue ; " bgt fhat’sfitwrenty yearg since.” “ You 0011 (1 do a little hncy inspecting, perhaps. Or, let me see. Bowker is a reli able man, and young Gavan broke his leg last week. Yes, that‘ll do. Gavan was managing man at a new pin of mine called The Buz‘ lard. I don‘t know why they call it so, so don’t ask me, Gavan broke hls leg, and Bowker, his subordinate, has been carrying on the work. Now you might take Gnvan‘e place. Leave Bowker alone pretty much, you know, and take his advice about things He’s a thoroughly practical man, one of the 01d rough sort, but a. yery decent fellow.” “ All right,” said Joe : ” I'll undertake to be worth what I draw from you, and nomore. Can you send my horse back and drive me over 7” “ IEope to sew,” returned Mr. Bowker, BY DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY. CHAPTER XXIX. with an unfavoring glance at Joe's watch- chain and his well out though unassuming garments of dark tweed. " You’ll want lodgings, Mr. Jones,” said Chesson, with his eyes twinkling and his face a mask of gravity. “ Yes, I suppose 50.” said Joe. Mr. Bowker turned sheer round and stared at him Then he turned again and caught the twinkle in the Baronet’s eye. “Your name's no more Jones than mine is.” he cried. “ Why, it’s young master Jos- eph I Lord love me I I ought to ha’ kuowed you in a glawnce, like. Why, bless my soul I I bin glad to see thee. But when I heard thee spake I knowed thee. Shank hands, ode mon shank hands I ” Joe shook hands heartily. but he turned a. moment later to Cheston, and looked at him with a somewhat rueful smile. “ So much for my plot I ’ he said. “ Wiln liam," he added, turning to the beaming Mr. Bowker. “ I didn’t rexpecy yoqwto knowy gm): “Lord love thee I" Enid William, “ I should ha.’ knoyedr the} npyyylgeer ! _” _ “ I don’t; want it to be known that I’m back again," and Joe. Mr. Bowker’s eyes opened wide at this, but he said nothing. “ My uncle is very ill, as I dare say vou know," he con tinued, “and I don’t want him to know that I am here at presegfifif “ Pray understand, Mr.Bushell," said John quietly, “ that we cannot content ourselves “ So I said, Bush'ell," cried the Baronet. "SO I said.” “ I see," Enid William briskly. “ Th‘ ode fox has had your feyther’s money. 311’ now he‘liiha’ to turn i) up,‘I_ reokon. _He_yrary.”»_ "' Mr. BushEll.” said John gravely, “ I beg you not to try to deceive me, or force me into measures which I should regret." Joe “ Not me! Why, he gi’en me the suck at a. minute's notice,” said William ; “an' all for tekin’ the part of a woman as was i’ trouble, as he was a blaokguardin’. You remember her,â€"â€"Miss Banks. Her brother was took up for forgin’ ode Bushell’s naam, an’ her went to him to beg him off. and he misoalled her all o’er the pleas. Au’ I ups an’ spakee to him. Shu: up! I says. Y‘ode Rip. I says, wheer’e your bowels ? An’ he turns 0’ me, an’ he says. ‘Tek a. minute’s notice,” he says, ‘an’ leave my emr‘l’y.’ he says. Oh, he’s a. bitter hard un. he is. Well, send I may live I I bin glad to see thee, Master Joseph, real righteous right down glad, an’ that’s the trewth.” " Well. forty thousand’s a good round sum," said o]d Georgex 7 “I’ve been unthinkin’ over the news as you give me, Mr. Keen," he said in quavering tones; “ an’ if you prove your case, I’m will- in’ to do justice. But five~an’-twenty thou sand pound is a large sum to part with on anythin’ but good evidence.” These miseries retarded recovery, but body and mind obstinater insisted on getting stronger. and he had to see John Keen at last. The old man’s skin was of the color of the film which gathers on stale unbaked bread, and his eyes were fishy and watery. His mouth was drawn down purselike at the corners, and the inner ends of his eyebrows were drawn upwards, so that he wore a mask expressive of feeble misery. John had ex- pected a change in him, but was yet sur~ prised to see him look so wretched. In the new handshaking that ensued Jee threw in a little extra pressure for Dinah’e defender. " I wanted to stop in the neighborhood, William," he said reluctant to abandon his plan. “ And I didn’t want to be known. Do you think anybody else would know me ‘2 ” " Well I doubt they would,” said William reflectively. “ But; the-er ain’t a, lot 0’ th’ ode uns left now. Not one on ’em works here. Yo‘ might live i‘ my cottage if yo‘re i' want 0’ lodgin’s, an’ welcome. An’ yo’ could tek to wearin’ a pair 0' blew glasees. Dr. Hodgetts he’s took to ’em. an’ I went by with 0115 kuowin’ him on’y yesterday. They are a real maz'm’ disguiseâ€"â€"blew glasses. “ Well I won’t try the blue glasses.” said Joe, “but I’ll stop and take my chance.” There was more in his resolve than he expressed. What if he were known, and the general knowledge brought him back to Dinah? He feared; but might he not make her happy after all? Ah! it once she took him back again. he would so surround her with Observances of love and tenderness that he would half atone. No, no! that was impossible. But he would try to make her happy for the future. if they came tonether again. “1111 have no alias, Gheeten," he cried suddenly. “It would look base to be detected under such a. die~ guise. But I’ll stay here and take my chance. Bushell is a common name enough. I can trust you. William ?” i The frustrated sohemer had been groping in his mind in a dim and feeble way, and had at length discovered the mental chamber in which, hidden under all manner of rubbish and debris, lay the remembrance of the lawn yor’s visit. and ghis own denial of his crime. And when the doctor set before him the fact that Mr. Keen was again in the neighborhood waiting to see him. the old fellow, with a sort of inward earthquake, recognized the folly and madness of resistance. He had sinned in vain. and his sin had found him out. He had given a hundred pounds to Josephâ€"that was something. It soothed his heart a little to think of that one generous deed, the only one he could recall; though he tried hard to re- mind himself of his own virtues as a seteofi to the account an efiended God certainly held against him. The pangs of afirighted con science were terrible to him, but these alone might have been fought down. There was no fighting young Keen and the evidence of the sexton, or if there were. he was broken and no longer had the pluck for it. ‘- I Ehah’t breathe a synuable," said stanch William, “till yog gi’enryne Vlgafive." “ Now, Joe, old man," said Cheston, with a friendly hand on his shoulder; “ I call this a step in the right direction." “ I hope it will prove so,” answered Joe. And so at his own proper cost the returned exile lived in Mr. Bowker’s cottage. He bought coarser tweeds and a billycook hat,and fiddled about the mine, making journeys into the bowels of the earth at times. and holding grave consultations with Mr. Bowker as to the progress of the work in hand. Long years of business habits had left upon him the necessity for occupation. and he began by and by to take a real interest in the Work. The rapidity with which he revived old knowledge and mastered new im< pressed Mr, Bowker greatly, but Joe kept his eye upon the real business he had in hand. and was keen after news of old George. He found, in the bar parlor of the Dudley Arms of an evening, a generation who knew him not. Two or three oldsters were there whom he had faintly known in his early days and when he heard their names he could call them to remembrance. but none of them made any guess as to his identity. He was extremely silent and reserved amongst them. smoking his pipe and sitting behind his Times as he listened to their talk. 01d George‘s illness was a common topic, and old George’s doctor was a nightly guest ; so that such news as was to be had he got at with- out the risk of questioning. A week or two of immunity from recognition seemed to make him safe. In the meantime John Keen had found em ployment at Borton for young George. and sent news that the crrminal was buckling to with a will. and promised all sorts of amend- ment. What the heir presumptive to a quar- ter of a million thought of working as a clerk at five and thirty shillings 9. week, and living on that sum was not to be got at, but it is certain that for the time being he bore it well; and news reached his father that he had strenuously refused Dinah’s proffered aid, in accordance with instructions. After two or three weeks of waiting, there came new; of a decided change in old George's condition. and Joe learned that in the course of a few days it was possible that the old man might be allowed to look at business once again. He sent the news to John Keen. and John came down on the strength of it and saw the doctor, who denled him access to the sick man for the present, but undertook to pave the way for him. You seem to ban} him no good will 2"; said with anything less than the restoration of the whole of your brother Joseph’s fortune. Let me tell you what we know. I shall tell you nothing. I am not in a position to prove. You purposely widened the quarrel between your nephew Joseph and his parents. You withheld from him all knowledge of his father’s death, and you wrote to him, when you had held for a. year the fortune which belonged to him, saying that his wife had married again. and so prevented his return to England." 01d George’s mouth opened and his fishy eyes widened with a look so ghastly that the lawyer paused. The unbsked pie crust oom- plexion changed to a deep crimson, and changed again to a dull loaden color, and for a minute or two John feared that his listener would succumb to the news. He rose and mixed & tumbler of wine and water and held it to the old man’s lips. By-and by the patient recovered, and returned to his former aspect. “ Must I go on and distress you with the memory of these misdeeds ‘2” John asked. " We know everything. We have been in communication wiih the governor of the jail. Your late private secretary is again in Eng land. Why should you bring misery and dis- grace upon yourself by resisting us 7" CHAPTER XXX. John Keen found busier employment through the unexpected revelation Dinah had made to him than he had ever expected to find m Wrethedale. But howsoever busy he might be. there were Intervals in which he ” I bain‘t a-resiatin’ anybody,” said old George feebly and miserably. “ I’m willin' to do jumice. A hundred thousand pound’s a lot 0‘ money. but I'm willin’ to do justice: “You are not near the amount yet, Mr. Bushell." John returned. “ The title deeds of all the landed property of which your brother Joseph died possessed, and the papers relating to his funded properties, are still in exiesence. When we come to business we shall be able to refresh your memory.” There was no more hinting at delay. Ind John wrote two other letters. one to Joe and one to Dinah, announcing that the business was practically at an end. Old George, by his lawyer’s advice. prepared to sell up every- thing and to retire from business, as the only way by which the enormous diminution of his capital could be hidden from the pubho eye. The wretched deféated old â€" sohemer growled.’ “ The houses was good for nothin’, an’ was all sold at a. loss,” he protested, “ The money’s all mixed up along 0’ mine. I bain’t I gooin’ to be made a. pauper on. Mind that now.” “131.1%, tfiis feeble spark of resistance died out when John answered him : “ I am sorry to say, Mr. Bushell, that you have 110‘ deserved any merciful considera~ tion at our hands. I shall accept no com promise." “ T0 111 amazement," the OODVO BDGGI‘ y answered. ” Am I a~gooin’ to be madea. pauper on ?” quavered the wretched old George. “ Answer me that, Mr. Keen. Am I a-gooin’ to be made a pauper on 7" . " You must be thankful, Mr. Bushell,” John responded, " that we do not take crim~ inal measures against you. Be glad that your wickedness is to be punished so lightly." “ Mr. Bushell," said J ohn, “ we will take back every penny piece of which you wrong~ fully possessed yourself. Thank us, when you come 1.0 reason again. that we do no more. We have been merciful to you. and we de- sire to be merciful still ; but so far as your brother Joseph’s fortune is concerned. we shall insist upon strict justice. May I see your lawyer now ?" "‘ He’has explained the absence of the car- tificate ?” asked John. “ My brother Joseph meant to leave a lot of 1115 money to me,” cried George, tremu- loualy. “ lie allay: said so. an’ be made a will an’ dld it. Am I a-gooin’ to be robbed 0' that 7" “ No,” cried Giorge feebly: “ I’ll deal with him myself. You come here at twelve tumor row, and I‘ll have him here. I hain’t strong enough to do more talkin’ to-day. I'm tired," “Very good. Mr. Bushell," said John. “ At twelve tomorrow.” " There are more things in heaven and earth. Mr. Keen.” said he. " than are dreamt of m our philosophy. I should never have thought it. So respectedâ€"and with one foot in the grave 1"_ _ The young lawyer took nis way, not with- out some pity for the broken aohemer. He wrote that afternoon two accounts of his interview. dispatching one to Joe and the other to Dinah. and on the morrow at midday he presented himself anew at old George’s house. Mr. Peokmore, that elderly convey- enoer who had once on a time recommended Ethel to John Keen’s services had not yet ar- rived. and George was ‘alone. “ Mr. Keen,” he said, in a. stronger voice than that of yesmrday, "if I’m a gooin’ to do justice it’s fair as I should come 05 wi’ no disgrace " The business was broken off for an hour or two, whilst old George’s lawyer applied the forensic thumbscrew to his client. and after a. tough time of it squeezed the truth on: of him. Then he came back and relieved him- self by a quotation. “ Quite right to be discreet. Mr. Keen,” said the eldet. “ But I won’t and can't ac- cept the responsibility of so vast a transfer without knowing more than I know at pre~< sent." “That depends uponyourself, M1. Bushell.” John answered. “ It is not necessary for Mr. Packmora no know more than the mere fact, :bat I can prove Dinah Banka’ marriage to Jogeph Bushpll.” _ But when Mr. Packmore came he turned out to be a very hard oonveyancer indeed, and by no means willing to believe that his client was ready to surrender so huge a slice of his great fortune. In his opinion was up to that time advisedâ€"the can ought to be fought, if only for the sake of securing a. complete proof. But finding that his client objected most savagely and obstinater to any fight being made, he gave in. â€" " I can only refer you again to Mr. Bush- ell.” John answered. “ The reasons whlch actuate him to an unconditional surrender are cogent enough ; no doubt, it you can ar- rive at them." “ Very well, Mr. Bushell,” he said, at last, with quiet desperation. “'I'll go over to Wanton church as a mere matter of form, anyway, and look at the original entry.” “ Mr. Packmore,” said John, with infinite dryness, “ I an! at your service in this mat ter whenever you choose. In the interest of all parties I think we had better get it over quickly." â€" The-mo legal gentleman met again next daytaind ighe eldqr lookgd egtpemely grave. 1‘ Mt. Keen.” he said. "Ihnve â€"beBn to Waston Church, and there is no certificate of a marriage there between Joseph Bushell and Dinah Banks. " “You had better communicate that dis- covery to you client. Mr. Packmore," said John. ” This is a certified copy of the origi- ginalregieter.” He produced the document from his pocket-book and again placed it in the conveyencer’a hands. “ Well. the original is not at Waston," said the lawyer, half angrily. “ I know it isn’t." John returned. “ Great Heaven ! "cried Mr. Pnokmore. re- ooiling as the fancy struck him. “ Has Mr. Bushell been tampering â€"? Under the seal of professional confidence, now 1” ‘7 Yé’ do anythin’ of the saw, it youâ€"dare I ctigd 014 George in a. limlfr-friem'rflyf The elderly lawyer looked at him in amaze mam, and confided to John Keen his opinion that really Mr. Bushell was not in 9. fit con- dition to transact business just at present. “ On our slde," John answered, “we cannot admit of any delay. Mr. Bushell is fully persuaded of the validity of our claim, and wishes to do justice.” “ It’s an odd business,” said the conveyan- cer, “and one I have no stomach for.” They were outside the house by this time. “ You have some hold upon him, Mr. Keenâ€"some- thing I don’t know of.” found time enough to think upon one inexv hauetible theme, and that theme, naturally enough for a lover, was the inexpreasible charms of Miss Ethel Donne.‘ Perhaps the young man had been in love before. but if he had been he contrived to forget all about it. There was but one woman in the world. and she less a woman than an angel. Getting at ‘John’e thoughts. one would conceive that ‘there never had been any human creature of such perfections, and never again would be. “There is none like her -none ! Nor shall there be till our summers have deceased.” It is the proper belief of a lover, and comes natural to him. It is not to be said that the young man} had. or, being a lover needed, any very dis~ tinct opportunities ofxclose observation on which to base the glorious theorem which he never wearied of propounding. ’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view. But to worâ€" ship a good woman is surely worth an honest man’s while. To be able in married life to recognize no disillusion. but only a gradual toning down of color, that is inevitable, and. like many inevitable things, a blessingâ€"one must have made a better choice and he a bet- ter man than the average. But here is a. fine natured, honest hearted. loyal young fellow in love with a good and charming young girl, and if only the girl could be brought to be in love with him I could find it in my heart to join their hands, with the best hope for their future, and to say. " Bless .you, my ,childrenl Bless you I" Playwrights and ‘novelists are the most inveterate of match- makers. Ethel rose and fronted him with her hands clenched, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkling wi anger and surprise. “ That man is still alive ‘2" she asked. " Before you judge him,” returned John, I‘let me tell his story. It will not take long. Mr. George Busbell, of whose rascalitiee you know a little. but not much. was his nephew’s only correspondent. He left the runaway in ignorance of his parent‘s death, and stuck to the money they left behind them. That you] John's especial advantage was that Ethel knew his condition. Had he always dieguie ed it, she could have looked upon him with greaCer‘iavor, bun now his very attachment made it dxfl‘icult for her even to like him. Hardly a year and a half had gone by since the man she loved had proved himself a sooundrel, and she had loved him dearly. John felt his case no more hopeful on account of young George’s reappearance, though he knew Elhel’e change of feeling toward her late lover well enough. But. that reappear ance had opened a. wound which time had not yet healed, and her truer lover knew it. “ The secret is not mine, Miss Donne, though I am master of it," John answered. " If it belonged to me I would offer it, if I ofiered it at all, without reservation and with- out condilions. But I am compelled to ask you, in the first place, to promise that you will not reveal it to Mrs. Bushell without the sanc- tion of the person who is, with her, most id- terested in it." “ I promise that,” the gig] answered. " Then," said John. “my sears: is simply finisher husband is in England.{’ Sometimes, in his consultations with Dinah, Ethel was present, and she was aware of all that went on on that side. Her courage, her faithfulness and friendshipher self vposses- sion, all seemed more than human in John’s eyes, and there are no words for his pity and admiration. If only the young lawyer would or could have hidden the too evident signs of feeling which every look afiorded, Ethel, under these new circumstances, might have liked him well enough ; but as it was, she fought him 0E by a chill abruptness of de- meanor altogether unnatural in her, and John, full of warmth as he was within, be- came frozen on approaching her, except for his eyes, which did her continual homage. But it is a long lane indeed which has no turning, and the relationship of these two young people underwent}: sudden change. Joe had been thinking over the young lawyer’s scheme for sounding Dinah’s feelings conâ€" earning him, and as efiails grew day by day more urgent, and less and less within his own control, the plan began, out of his sheer des peration, to commend itself to him. So that one evening, when John called upon him under cover of the darkness at Mr. Bowker‘a cottage. the bewildered husband and father eapitulated. “ What is your secret, Mr. Keen ?” asked Ethel. :‘Who is the young lady ?” he asked, after reminding John of the hint he himself had‘giveq. J oe was fain to be be content and to wait, while John went back to the little western village, and set his scheme in motion. Of ‘course it was charming for John to have such a chance of approaching Ethel, and of course it was terrible to him to have to take it. He began by wrning a letter. At seven o’clock that evening Mr. Keen called. Ethel sat in the small front parlor to receive him, and, except for the maid servant. was alone in the houseâ€"Mrs. Donne having providentially accepted an invitation to tea. When the girl arose and oflered her hand, a most unprofessional flutter started in John’s heart. but outwardly he was as cool as a. cucumber. ' In answer to this brief and somewhat mis- leading epiatle came an answer delivered by the hands of Mrs. Donne’s little maid sen vant. Miss Donne would be obliged it Mr. Keen would call at seven o’clock that even- mg. "She is a. Miss Donne." answered the young fellow, blushing. They eat in Joe’s bedroom by the light of a. single tallow candle. and the blush passed unnoticed. “The same,” John answered. l‘I can pledge myself to her discretion and to her self«eommaud. And she sso devoted to your wife, sir, that she woul do anything for her sake. I went to ask you again to re member how easy the 155k will be. It seems to me that a. very beosd hint’would be needed before your wife would suspect the meaning of the inquiries.” “The girl,” said J05, “ to whom George wasgngaged to he iman‘ied ?” "Since I have been living here," said Joe, sitting with botWha table, at} staring at the feeble flame o the candle. with his head between his hands, “I have learned agood deal about. them bothumy wife and my son. He ruled her and even bullied her at times. Now she‘s going; to be wealthy, and she'll want the control of the lad, and I don’t see how I can keep a hold upon him. I don’t. want to neglect my duty any longer. I could take him with me ((0 the West per- haps, but she’d break her heart to lose him without knowing why ; and if she knew why. you can see that all the mischief which oould come of my declaring myself would be done, and any chance of good to her in it would be missed. Now, if I could go back to her, and acknowledge myself, and then an dertake the care of the lad, and. if need be, go away again and let her see him at times, and know of his well doingâ€"â€"" “ I am at a. deadlock now,” Joe answered. “ I've seen that it was coming. I must either go away, and let her snfier anew at the hands of that unhappy lad, and sufler she will, unless there is somebody to control him â€"-or I must make myself known to her. But," he added suddenly, with a shrinking of the heart, “ don’t let Miss Donne go too far. Let. me kno . to begin with, whether my going back wil be the larger of the two evils. I can well believe it might be.” “ John KEEN. “ P. S. I must beg of you not to drop a higt of this at pgepeptfiq M113. Bushqll.” The speaker’s voice, thoilgh he tried hard to steady in, became so shaky that he had to pausg and leavernis sentence unfinished. _ “ You authorize me. then." said John, “ as a first step, to tell Miss Donne the whole story? ” “ Rely upon it " Sufi John, “ that all dis~ cretion shall be used.” “ Dear Miss Donne”-â€"(he felt ridiculously inclined to set down the first word in capitals) â€"" I have a. secret which most nearly con- cerns the happiness of your friend Mrs. Joseph Bushell. I believe it‘s the one thing in the world she most desires to learn. May I presume to ask your assistance and advice 1â€"Yours most respectfully, knew or partly knew already. But he wrote in answer to his nephew‘s particular inquir- ies about Miss Dinah Banks, that Dinah Banks had married. Joseph Bushell believed his wife faiihless to him, and stayed away' until after all these years he learned by a mere accident that this was false and came over to make inquiries.” “ And-how does all that concern Dinah’s happiness, Mr. Keen? ” asked Ethel. “ The man has heard that she is going to have the fortune he threw away,and now he comes back to live upon her.” " 0n the contrary," said John, “ he has amassed a fortune of his own. He has been in England for some months, and at any moment might have claimed the fortune for himself, but has given his best influence to securing it for her.” “ If I must come,” said Dinah quietly, " I must come.” It was all for the chlld for " He. has been away from her for six and twenty years now ! " cried ELhel with supremo contempt. “ Let him go away again! ” “ He knew partly how Dmah dreaded a return to the place she had left in such unearned shame. “ Miss Donne." said the young fellow, warmed on the suffering Joe’s behalf. “ you misjudge the man. His wife has not suffered alone. He has endured with her, and he has had great sorrows to bear since his return. When I first met him I had no sympathy with him, but I have learned to know him since then, and I believe that his wife ought to know that he is here. She is not an old women, and when he has this fortune she will find suitors in plenty. That is inevitable. Suppose she should marry again "â€"hein» wardly blessed Sir Sydney Cheston for having put that argument into his handsâ€"“ and suppose that afterward the discovery should be made. TWA; would be horrible, and none of us who have the secret could permit it to happen, but we should have then to say what we know now ; and how could we accept the responsibility of having kept it back from her 7 She ought to know it.” “Tm afraid Imusl; ask you t8 do in” said John, cruel only to be kind. “You need not go farther thaanirrminigbam ’3 " I don’t Wâ€"ant. to go down there if I can help it, Mr. Kegn," said_Dinah piteously. " I have called to say,” he began, “ thm everything is now ready for the transfer of your husband’s property to your hands. I shall be greatly obliged if you can make it convenient to come down to Birmingham, Where Mr. Packmore, who is engaged on the other side, and 1 can lay the necessary docu- ments before you." “ No," cried John, perceivmg suddenly that his argument had altogether overshot the mark. “ Personally. I long to see them together, because I believe that she would be happier after his return than she has ever been since I have known her, but he forbids the immediate revelation of the se- cre's." “ There is a. reason,” said John : “ and this is where I beg you to help. His old friend Sir Sydney Gheston has done his best to persuade him to return, and I have exhausSed all my arguments in the same behalf." “ Do you wTiah me to break the news to her ‘2” asked Ethel. “ If he forbids it temptuoualy. “ IE is ‘a pisy to have spent so much good persuasion on such an object, Mr. Keen," n. d Ethel. “ But he will only return.” John went on steadfastly, “ on one condition.” " Thai; his declaration of himself will bring no new unhappiness on her." Ethel was silent. “ All the time he has been robbed of his fortune, and swmdled out of his righl to a hapm7 mgrried life.” 7 " Bravo 1” he cried, " the very ticket I” and with :hat vulgar exclamation he turned and walked briskly back again. This time he rang the bell at Dinnh's house, and being admitted, gave the first above to his new scheme. “ And tith isâ€"-?" inquired Miss Donne with iloftyraqorp. r But before he was halfway down the dark- ened village street a. thought struck him and brought him to a stand still. “ How can 1 help him ?" asked Ethel, still scornful. From the first hour of heating Dinah’s story she had hated and despised the runaway husband. and she was not going to change her mind on a sudden. It had been clear all along that he had been a good for nothing fellow. Why should she help to But render Dinah to him again? “ I amvsorry to find you against me in this matter,” said John, and he went away so:- rowful. (“He left her voluntarily," said Ethel hotly. “ And was kept from her by a viilainous fraud. Miss Donne. But this is all he has to say through me, that if his declaration of himself can smooth away any troubles she has yet to face, he will declare himself. If it could only add to her unhappiness he will go away again. Have pity for him and your friend, Miss Donne. He asks nothing but the knowledge of his duty. He only waits to know where duty seems to lie.” “ You could help 'him by finding out whether his wife still cares for him, and whether she would be glad to have him back.” John urged gently, refusing ‘0 be beaten down by hqr_uontemp_t for Joe. “ I do not think my opinion of him at all likely to change,” answered Ethel quietly. “ And I certainly think that since he has stayed away so long, he can do nothing better or more generous or kindly than to stay away for good. Joseph Bushell has done as much harm as any one man has a right to do. Let him go back to wherever he came from, and take his secret with him, and leave his wife in peace. If he should come here, I should certainly advise Dinah most strongly to give hlm his fortune and let him go.” " Of course she cares for him 1 Why else has she kept single all her life. but because she gal-ed for himl‘ That is the way with women 1 ” cried the girl. trembling with an-- car and her championship for the women she loved. “ They love the wretches who use them so shamefully, and pine after them all their life long. Glad to have him back again? Yes. noor weak thing I I know that well enough, Mr. Keen. But Iwill have no hand in the plot to bring him back, and I have no thanks for you who come here to ask me to take an office so ignoble. I will not trap my’ friend into a confession which would bring that man back again. I love her well enough to deny her wishes there.” “ Mr. Kean," said Ethel, “ 1410 you justice enough to believe that you are in earnest, and that_h_e has impgsefi upon yqu.” “ You mistake, Miss Donne," said the young lawyer firmly. It was hard for him to have strengthened the poor opinion she had always held of him. or seemed to hold. “ I came to ask you to perform an act of the truest friendship, and I would rather die than ask you to do anything which would not become you as you are. Forgive me l There are troubles before Mrs. Bushellâ€"â€" unless she has her husband’s help to light themâ€"as great, I fear, as any she has en- countered yet, terrible as they have been. The man is not what you believe him, but. I pledge myself for him, a true man. With a kindly. honest heart. He has been hideously defrauded. Think of it, Miss Donne. For three~and~twenty years he has lived in the belief that the wife of this youth had been false to him, and for half the time he was struggling with hardship and poverty, whilst that old villain who had deluded him and robbed him fattened on his fortune. He does not claim the fortune now. Does that say nothing in his favor ? I believe with all my heart and soul,” cried John. in a great heat of friendly championship himself by this time. “ that the one thought he has. the one desire he has, is to spend his whole life in atoning to his wife for the sorrows she has borne. And if I believed one tittle less than that 1 would never have taken up his cause.” Sheâ€"spoke quietly enough, but with flaming cheeks and sparkling eyes, and an utterance unugqully rapidr ” If you oodld but. seeWhe man I" said John. â€"-” Ethel began con- whom she had suffered so much. And now that he was beginning to not. so nobly, and to struggle for himself. he was ten times more than ever worthy of any suffering she might endure. For. bheyoung men had told herâ€" making the best of a bargain the thought. unpleasant~that he meant to be a. man in future, and had declined her assistance with an air of martyr~like magnenimity inexpressi- bly effecting. “ I dare say,” said John with much inno- cence. “ you could persuade Miss Donne to accompany you. We shall not want to keep you more than a day or two.” ' “ Make the time' as short as you can, Mr. Keen.” sand Dinah. “ When shall you want me to be ready ? " “ Consult your own convenience.” cried John. “but make it as soon as you like. It will be best to have the business over." he added cheerily. “ That was the last line I ever had from England. Perhaps that is why I kept it. When my unhappy lad met me in Amatica he was traveling under an assumed mme, “ Yes,“ Difmh answered. " I’ll speak to her about it, and I’ll let you know to-morrow, Mr. Keen.” On that understanding John went away, and the first result of this small ruse of his was that Ethel and Dinah and he all travelled down to the Midland capital together on the following afternoon. Old Daniel was quite beyond the understanding of any part of the story by this time, and Mrs. Dunne knew no more ofit than that her neighbor had come in suddenly for a great fortune which ought to have been hers long ago. She was not a mercenary woman, but she made no objection to her daughter’s friendship with Dinah under these circumstances. John had guessed, and as events proved had guessed rightly, that if Divan visited the old country at all it would be in Ethel‘s company. Half this plan was accomplished, and now he had but to bring Ethel and Joe together to complete his scheme. For, after the manner of impetuous youth, he was persuaded that Ethel could no more fail to recognize the manliness of Joe‘s character than he had done. If she could but see the man, as he had said to her. If she could but hear his Wishes from his own lips, and see how real and how in earnest he was, she would surely consent to help him. And nobody, I am as~ sured will be likely to think any the worse of the yeung man for his generous efforts in be- half of such a cause. Joe by this time had fairly taken John’s aflections captive, and John was ready to swear by him as the hon eslest and most injured man in Great Brit- ain. it is a fine thing to be young and to have these impetuous beliefs in human pro- bity. They are often thrown away, but for once they bade fair to be expended on a good object. He folded up thé letter, rétuméd it to his pocket-book, and went on. Erhel was a woman, after all. albeit a very charming one. And being a women, she could scarcely be insensible to the young fellow‘s disinterested earnestness, or to the flattery which so simply told her that the “course of two lives depended on her judgment. ‘I do not desire to lay too much stress upon the last. The appeal. “ For Dinah’s sake I ” might have been enough to shake down any little barrier of unwillingness. Perhaps, too, she was a trifle curious to see the man. “ Ne,’ said Joe, with a simple and surprise, “ I never thought at that time of coming back to England. It was years after that before I could have paid the passage-money." “ Did you keep this letter, Mr. Bushell, with a view to any such contingency as this 7” asked Ethel. When John had once got Ethel so near, he set to work to get; her nearer still, but found unlocked for difficulties in the way. Perhaps she misunderstood the purpose of that per- sistence with which he dodged her. and sue. pected an interest more pars "ml to himself than that which really animated him. But at. last, avoid him as she might, be caught her in the corridor of the hotel. Ethel glanced through the letter. which was yellow wmh age and much worn at the edges of the folds. “There has been a gala” (propâ€" ably gayish) ” wedding here last week when Dinah Banks was married at the old church. I am sorry to hear as you are not doing well and being busy at this time no more from your affectionate uncle, George Bushell.” So it closed. “ If I say anything which gives you pain, I can only ask you to forgive me. When my son and I encountered each other in New York, I learned that my wife had never mar med again, and that my uncle’s letter to that effect had held acruel lieâ€"he didn't know how cruel. Perhaps you know Mr. Bushell’s handwriting ?" he asked, drawxng a book of memoranda from his pocket. “ There is his letter: I thqnght it advisable to bring it.” “ amiss Donne,” he murmured, as she sought to pass him with a more how, “ I have semen thing of the utmost. urgency to say to you," She could do nothing less than pause, with- out being downright rude to him. “ I am most. glad you came here, for I think it for- wards one of the dearest wishes I have in the world. Joseph Bushell is within five mile of us, Will you see him and judge him for yourself? For Dinah’a sakel " he pleaded. “ Think how much hangs upon your judg~ meat. It commits you to nothing. Will you see him ‘1‘ ” Joe assented with a readiness {which aur- ptisad his companion ;but the truth of the matter was, ‘hat Joe’s heart was growing hungrier and hungrier and his samples were beginning to be nothing in his way. He was almosi ready at moments to start off and throw himself upon Dinah’s mercy without preliminaries. He had written half a ream of letters to her,and destroyed them as he wrote them. one by one. So when darkness fell, the two went into town together. and Joe stayed at another hotel while John went on to spy out the land before him Dinah retired early. and John darted away for her husband, brought him up in a cab Within five minutes, and led him to the sitting room Where Ethel set to receive them, It was not a. small thing for Joe to enter the house in which his wife was sleep- ing. even though he were sure of not being discovered by her ; to be so near her, and yet to be sundered from her by the barrier of those six and.twenty years of absence. He bore the imp ass of his emotions in his face. and it was natural that for a moment he should wish that he had not undertaken the venture. “I am obliged to you," said Joe, in the simple and manly way habitual and natural to him, “for having consemed to meet me Mr. Keen tells me that you are very much opposed to me, and I should have expeoted that. You know the facts of the ease up to a. certain point. and I need not trouble you by repeating them.” He paused. and Ethel inclined her head. It was not easy to make way against her resolute coldness ; but. he went on. John. elated. and supposing all troubles o'er, made his swiftest way to Mr. Bowker's cottage, and dispatched a messenger to the Buzzard, who returned with Joe. The young fellow found it a. somewhat delicate thing to tell him that he was to go and be examined by a lady he had never seen, with a view to ascertain his fitness to be crucified with his own wife. But he blurted it out at last. Ethel rose to John‘s introduction of the new comer, gave him a formal bow and signed him to a seat. The first thing that crossed her mind was that Dinah would never (in the mere worthless, conventional sense of the word) he a lady, though she had the as. sentiala of ladyhood (which are perhaps. after all, included in womanlinees), whilst the man before her had at least the aspect of a gen- tleman. Even that in her prejudiced mind. went against him. He would think Dinah’a accent vulgar, and despise her home- ly ways and thoughts. " Dinah must not kno» of it,” she an‘ awered, “ And I do not see how 1 can leave her." “ If/you will give me an hour after she has gone to bed toâ€"nigm,” urged John. “ Mr. Bushel‘l shall be here.” “ Very well” she am swered, “ I wxll see him.” " Miss Donne is very much opposed to you, bug I want yet} to_ s_ee her ygurself..”_ _ _ and I didn’t guess who he was. But I re- solved en ooming back to England in con- eequenpe_ of_ the yews he_ga_ve me. When I landed here I scarcely knew th I wanted to do. but I learned from Mr. Keen here everything my wife had suffered in my absence. I learned for the first time that I had a. son. and I heard what had become of him. I went; with Sir Sydney Che anon to the place where he was confined, and I found that he had been released by the intervention 0! uncle George." W This wasunews to Ethel, and it amazed her but she said nothing, and gave no aignfl ; “ Shortly after this my son wroie to Mr. Keen for assistance in discovering Dinah, giving an address at Burton. We went to see him togeiher. and I recognized him as the man who had met me in New York, and had passed himself ofi as the brother of my old friend Sir Sydney Cheston.’_’_ â€"Winnipeg Times: it’s all up with us. Manitoba isn’t going to be the biggest toad in the confederation puddle after all. At least the Young Men‘s association of St. Peter and St. Paul. Toronto, have in public debate decided that Ontario is going retain her present leading position. She is. is she? Well, we‘ll just bet the Young Men’s associaâ€" tion of St. Peter and St. Paul the beer for the crowd on that point. We’ll hold the stakes, too. W He saw hm; bitEerly all this distressed Ethel. but he was too careful to spare her to apologize. and she bore it bravely. He went --A swindle: has made his appearance in some parts of the country, pretending to h ave a Government certificate, and is vaccinating people at 25 cents an arm. The vaccine mat- ter he uses is muoilage ; but people who patronize him needn‘t feel amok up about it_ “ My wife, for her son’s sake, has com- pelled my uncle George to surrender my father’s fortune, andshe is wealthy. What hold have I upon a son who has already proved himself unworthy of her? Can I leave her knowing him as I do, to bear the burden he will lay upon her? I have feared that my return might seem a greater evil in her eyes than even that. I have been afraid that after such an absence my return might seem the most terrible thing that could happen to her. Perhaps, if the news were broken to her gently, and if she knew that I had no further object than to help her in leading that poor lad to wiser ways, and that I made no demands 11pr her, and had no wish to fetter her free out or control her slightest wish-as God knows I haven’t lâ€"she might consent to see me once, and let me take the parthant to take. Will you sound her first. Miss Donne ‘2” he aked, hurrying along to hide the shaking of his voice “ Not let- ting her guess at first that I am here or alive at all. Can you do that ior me 7 And if my home coming should seem too hard for her. I must find another way. Will you help " I will consent to help you so {at as film; : I will speak to your wife of a. problematic“ return, and will find out for you whether she would be likely to rejoice or grieve at it, and I will let you know.” There was a diplomatic movement here which I hope nobody wrll think sinful. Ethel knew well enough already that there was no one thing in the world which could so rejoice Dinah’e widowed heart as the news of Joe’s return. For when once the secret had been confessed, Dinah’s constant speech went back to him, as one long slnce dead, indeed, but always to be loved. and held in pious memory to the end. But the girl could not yet bring herself to confess as much to the returned exile. Still, there was with her, as there had been with John Keen in his first interview with the wanderer, a feeling which warred with her preconceived notions of the men. “ Will you answer me one or two questions, Mr. Bushell 7 " she asked, suddenly. “ If I can,” he answered. “ How long was it after your departure from England before you received that let- ter? ” she asked, pointing to the pocket-book which still lay on the table: me ?” “ Mr. Bushell,” said Ethel, breaking her silence for the second time and speaking in a. voice unlike her own, “ Ivnlue your wife very highly, and I can do nothing to disturb her peace. She has suffered as few women have suffered. If you desire nothing more than you have said~” Points on Their Business by a. Non-Pro- fessional. ‘ ~ The baker, children, is indeed the best sub“ ject I have yet; lectured upon. It. takes the cake. The first baker I ever heard of was hanged for playing Pharoah a scurvy trick, but hanged it" I remember just what it was. Bakers do not play taro now, though ‘hey set out 9. tail.- row of cakes and pies. “ Nothing 1” Joe cried earnestly. “ Noth- l7” It was a poor excuse and Ethel thought so. Joe had always thought it shameful. and was not likely to change his opinion now, when the weight of unavailing repentance had been laid upon him so heavily. It was clear that, whatever he had to bear, he had himself made his burden. "You have made your bed," says the harsh common sense proverb. speaking the harsh common-sense of the world: “lie upon it." But it is no easier to lie upon it because the briars between the sheets were put there by your own hands. "Nobody can have any pity for him,” says popular opinion ; “he brought it upon himself.” Nay â€"still pity him, perhaps the more that he can soften the pangs of sufiering by the balm of no forgiveness. ' [To BE commune] You love cakes, don’t you, dents? That is to _say. A311 kinds of cakes butistomachV-aches: The baker is a _great worker, except when he has a. slow oven ; then he is apt to be a sloyâ€"ovemly fellow. Chxldren, you like to have your bread done and you will be glad to know that I am done toe.â€"Boston Transcript. The baker isâ€" a great lbver of flo'urs. He raises them. His rare flowers are only found in jibe yeast. H r Bak'ers are as much given to marrying as any other class of men, but you will find mqny batches about a bake 8119p. A Strange stories have been told of what the baker puts in his lies ; but these stories are not true I know, because I have looked inso ‘he pies. There is nothing in them, I can as- sure you. If Eaver dog is to have his day, the baker will have his. Why should the buy our be sligl} ted ? “ Two years,” said Joe, hanging his head and crushing his beard against his breast. “ What kept you silent all that time T" “ Shame," he answered, lifting his head as he spoke and dropping it again. “1 pro- mised to go away and make a home for her. I failed. I scarcely made a living formyself. I promised to send the certificate of our marriage, and I couldn’t find it And I put 03 writing for awhile. and then put it ofi for awhile longer. and at last I was afraid to write at. all. After a. month or two I made sure that: she would think me dead. and when uncle George's letter came I was certain that she did so." Be careful not to make tart remarks to the baker as his cart rolls along ; he has been known to cracker fellow over the head. The baker never wipes ofi‘ your score. He cannot. He kneads the sponge. You would better not loaf about his prams ises. He wants to do all she loafing himself The baker purchases every kind of bread. stuffs, and much of the bread’s tough that he sells. With all his baking he is seldom crusty. The baker has been suspected of being a pie house fraud. This is not true. This is proved by the fact that thirteen constitutes a baker's dozen ; or it did before thirteen was found to be an unlucky number. Now the baker dozen try to make you unlucky. He i's a well bread man, and makes much a-(lough about i3. ABOUT BAKERS