Having made this speech, Mrs. Arnold cast upon Mr. Featherstone one of her duly-organized smiles--a smile that was magnetic, and that set the heart of the luckless visitor into a flutter beyond recall.

"My dear Mrs. Arnold, you certainly do me the highest honor that can be bestowed upon a human being"--Mr. Featherstone felt considerable difficulty in getting off this speech, but another glance at the fair creature and he continued--"for you are certainly born to be worshipped at a distance--a something too lovely to be approached by anything this side of paradise!"

"Oh, Mr. Featherstone, spare me this flattery--I cannot really receive such, and from you-one endowed with such intellectual power, such ability and such genius! The thought is really dreadful!"

Mrs. Arnold's assumed earnestness of manner was indeed flattery of the seventh degree to the superficial Mr. Featherstone. He was transported to empyrean air. Mrs. Arnold had insight and her opinion was something to cherish. Poor Mr. Featherstone!

The conversation that followed was extravagant to the highest degree, and he went away that evening in a state of great disquietude, wondering why it was that it had not been his good fortune to meet his ideal of female loveliness ere she was wedded to another.

"That miserable bore! I am late in writing mamma's letter. I really wonder what she would say if she saw me flirting with the Hon. Cecil Featherstone! but I must be cautious, for I want the simple-minded Madge to share my blissful fate."

A servant in livery entered in answer to the summons of the bell-rope.

"Has James gone for the evening mail, Watkins?" demanded Mrs. Arnold in an imperious tone.

"He has not gone yet, my lady."

"Go and see how long before he does."

"Yes, my lady," said the servant, bowing very low, and with an air that seemed to say he was in the presence of royalty. The said Watkins had seen service in distinguished families, and the habit, though a ridiculous one, had become second nature, he invariably addressing every woman of fashion as "my lady."

Mrs. Arnold was pleased to learn that she could put her plan into execution without a moment's delay, and being a rapid writer she wrote and sealed a formidable-looking document, which she styled "mamma's letter," and within a few minutes saw it safe in the mail-bag awaiting the arrival of James, the trustworthy footman.

What the letter contained and its effects upon the different members of her family will follow in another chapter.

CHAPTER XVII.

MR. SPRIGGINS MAKES A DISCOVERY.

It is indeed, a warm July day--a fine hay day--and the people of Mill Crossing are taking advantage of the occasion. They are turned out _en masse_. Mowing machines are called into active service, and the new inventions--reapers, binders, etc.--are also at hand. The farmers of this favored locality are pretty well to do, and conspicuous among the number is our friend Mr. Spriggins.

The Spriggins farm was well cultivated. A good frame house and commodious barns speak of the industry of the Sprigginses.

There was also a heavy stock upon the farm, and that fact alone is sufficient proof of its thrift.

On the day in question we see the healthy, beaming face of Mr. Mose Spriggins in the doorway. He had been very busy in the earlier part of the morning, but now had a few moments to talk to the young man who had been hired to help in haying time.

The homestead, like many others that we see in country districts, had a snug room on each side of the narrow entrance--the one on the northeast side being fitted up for the best room, and used only on state occasions, such as weddings, quarterly meetings, etc. Into this apartment Moses peeped with an air of great caution, as much as to say "I must be keerful the old lady don't spy me in here with my big boots on."

But important business was on hand. The mantel piece must be reached! The old clock that didn't go stood there, and within, its sheltering recess was a valuable document.

"Well, I never; if this eer room isn't as dark as Egypt," exclaimed Moses, going to the end window and hitching up the blind in that remarkable style peculiar only to the sterner sex.

The light sun streamed in and brought out each article of furniture in bold relief.

There was a brand new set of cane-seat chairs that the old lady had bought at Stewart & White's the last time she had been to town. A woollen carpet from A. O. Skinner's had lately taken the place of the home-made one which now graced the spare bedroom up stairs. A motto, "God Bless our Home," hung over the mantel, and a few chromos relieved the walls. A large, beautifully bound Bible lay on the table, and beside it a photograph album, which had been subscribed for a few days previous by the persistent, efforts of an indefatigable canvasser. A white tidy covered the back of the rocking-chair, and another the back of the lounge. An old-fashioned pitcher filled with sweet-brier and some of the old-time flowers, such as bachelors' buttons, London pride, blue rocket and jump-up-johnnie stood on a kind of sideboard and showed a desire to make the room attractive and inviting.

In this apartment the young man stood for about five minutes' time, then exclaimed:

"By golly! I must soon git; for if the old lady catches me I'm a goner."

Suiting the action to the words Moses made his exit, carrying in his hand a sheet of paper which, on gaining the door, he folded and thrust into his bosom.

"Where's N'h'miar gone, Bill?"

"He's up to Widder Smith's; Ned was here a few minnits ago and said he was a' wantin', so off he sot; but he said to tell you he would be back less 'n ten minnits."

"The 'tarnal fool, to be a runnin' arter the Smithses every time they want him," exclaimed Mr. Spriggins, seating himself under a tree to take the afternoon lunch which now had arrived.

"Why didn't mother send a bushel more?" exclaimed Moses, eyeing the basket of bread and butter, cakes and pie--real raspberry pie.

A slice of bread was followed by a mug of milk. Then Moses took a glance at the document, probably as a means of facilitating digestion.

"Great scott! what's this? Well, if I'm not one of the darnd'st fools on this side the crossin'. Well, if that ar' lawyer won't think me a nice 'un, and like as not a thief."

Mr. Spriggins had been at Mr. Lawson's office some days' before, and bore away some advice, written down, that he "might not forgit."

The barrister had received several visits from his client, and each time had treated the said client with considerable favor.

Mr. Lawson somewhat admired the honest-hearted young farmer, and really was interested in him, and felt a sympathy which was unaccountable.

"One good turn deserves another, Mr. Lawson, and I may throw something your way some day."

There really did appear to be little value in this remark; but strange to say, in it were bound up Phillip Lawson's hopes, happiness, yes, all that was dearer than life. The sturdy son of toil proved his truest friend, and to the hour of his death he will ever cherish the thought wholly sacred.

But of Mr. Spriggins' surprise!

He had opened the letter to read the advice on trespass (which sooner or later is the experience of every farmer), when to his dismay another letter dropped out. It bore the address of the Winnipeg solicitor, and evidently was some private correspondence of his respected counsellor, Mr. Lawson.

"Ginger, I must git to town soon, for it must be something important! Darned if I know whether to read it or not. P'raps I'd better not. I couldn't go and tell a lie and say I didn't when I did. It would make a feller feel kinder streaked when he thought on't."

Mr. Spriggins reasoned thus, and the upshot of it was that next morning, after he had got a man to take his place, set off to town, a distance of twenty-two miles.

A pallor overspread the countenance of Mr. Lawson as he glanced at the missive which Mr. Spriggins placed in his hand, with the impression that it was business.

"Yes, it is indeed business, Mr. Spriggins, and I am your debtor for life," said the young man, extending his hand to the obliging Moses and giving him that hearty shake which often betokens lasting gratitude.

"Call on me at any time, Mr. Spriggins; you will be in again soon, I presume."

"After hayin', sir."

"Very well," and bowing the visitor out the lawyer once more took up the letter and read it slowly through.