The lawyer looked at his watch.  “Dear me! it’s tea-time.  I must go, for the church-committee meet this evening.  I think, however, I won’t complain of Hardwick to the deacons this time; for he’ll be sure to get into a passion when we commence our suit for ejectment, and I shall then have a better case against him.  A more disagreeable Christian to fellowship with I don’t know anywhere.

“I should like to know,” he continued, as he locked the office-door, “if that Lucy told me true,—­if those were all the papers.  No will, no memorandum for one!  Well, perhaps Mrs. Kinloch was careful enough to give that secret to the keeping of the flames, instead of her bureau.  I will make close copies of what I have got for Lucy to put back, and keep the originals myself.  They’ll be safest with me.  There’s no telling what may happen to papers in a house where there is a prying servant-girl.”

Whether the insects were poisoned by the air of the room, as Mark Davenport suggested, I cannot say.  But when Squire Clamp left the office, it was as still as a tomb.  No cricket chirped under the hearth, no fly buzzed on the window-pane, no spiders came forth from the dilapidated, dangling webs.  Silence and dust had absolute dominion.

The next day Mark returned to New York.  He had no opportunity of bidding Mildred farewell, but he comforted himself by thinking he had provided the means of safely communicating with her by letter.  And as the stage passed by the house, he caught a glimpse, first of her fluttering handkerchief, and then of her graceful fingers wafting to him a kiss.  It was enough; it furnished him with food for a delightful reverie as he went on his way.  We shall leave him in his former situation, from which, as a starting-point, he determines to win fortune or fame, or both.  He has your best wishes, no doubt, though perhaps you think he will not force his way into the close ranks of the great procession of life so soon as he expects.

That day, while Mr. Hardwick was taking his dinner, his second son, Milton, who had been fishing at the dam, came running into the house quite out of breath.

“F-father!” he stammered out.

“Nun-now st-hop,” said the black-smith.  “W-what are you st-stuttering for?  Wah-wait till you can talk.”

“Why, father, yer-you stutter.”

“Wer-well, yer-you shan’t.”

The look that came with this seemed to end the matter.  A moment’s rest quieted the nerves of the boy, and he went on to say, that Squire Clamp, and a man with a brass machine on his shoulder, and a chain, ever so long, were walking about the shop on the bank of the river.  Lizzy at once looked out of the window and saw the man peering into the shop-door, as if exploring the premises.

Impelled by some presentiment of evil, Mr. Hardwick got up from the table, and sternly motioning the boys back, went down to the shop.  As he came near the door, he saw the surveyor holding one end of the chain and taking sight upon a staff which the lawyer within was adjusting to its place by his direction.