“I wish the Lord had seen fit to give me just such a daughter as you are.

“Your friend,

“Seth Kinney.”

The letter to Reuben was very long, giving in substance the facts which have been told above, and concluding thus:—­

“I feel a great call from the Lord to do all I can in this business, and I hope you won’t take it amiss if I make bold to decide what’s best to be done without consulting you.  This fellow’s got to be dealt with pretty sharp, and I, being on the ground, can look after him better than you can.  But I’ll guarantee that you’ll have possession of that land before many weeks.”  He then asked Reuben to have an exact copy of the deed made out and forwarded to him; also any other papers which might throw light on the transfer of the property, sixteen years back.  “Not that I calculate there’ll be any trouble,” he added; “we don’t deal much in lawyer’s tricks up here, but it’s just as well to be provided.”

The Elder went to the post-office before breakfast to post this letter. 
The address did not escape the eyes of the postmaster.  Before noon Eben
Hill knew that the Elder had written right off by the first mail to a
“Miss Draxy Miller.”

Meantime the Elder was sitting in the doorway of old Ike’s barn waiting for the Frenchman; ten o’clock came, eleven, twelve—­he did not appear.

The Elder’s uneasiness grew great, but he talked on and on till poor Ike was beside himself with delight.  At last the distant creak of the wheels was heard.  “There he is,” exclaimed Ike.  “I’m thinking, sir, that it’s a kind o’ providential dispensation thet’s hendered him all this time; it’s done me such a sight o’ good to hear you talk.”

The Elder smiled tenderly on poor old Ike.

“Everything is a dispensation, Ike, accordin’ to my way o’ thinkin’;” and again he thought involuntarily of “little Draxy.”

Ganew assented with a half-surly civility to Elder Kinney’s proposition to ride down with him.

“I’ve got a matter of business to talk over with you, Mr. Ganew,”—­said the Elder, “and I came up here on purpose to find you.”

The man turned his stolid black eyes full on the Elder, but made no reply.  It was indeed an evil face.  The Elder was conscious that impulses which he feared were unchristian were rising rapidly in his breast.  He had wished a few times before in his life that he was not a minister.  He wished it now.  He would have liked to open his conversation with Ganew after the manner of the world’s people when they deal with thieves.  And again he thought involuntarily of “little Draxy,” and her touching “we are very poor.”

But when he spoke, he spoke gently and slowly.

“I have some news for you which will be very disagreeable, Mr. Ganew.”  Here the Frenchman started, with such a terrified, guilty, malignant look on his face, that the Elder said to himself:  “Good God, I believe the man knows he’s in danger of his life.  Stealin’s the least of his crimes, I’ll venture.”