of that quality, when directed on such matters as the present. In
half-an-hour he had furnished her with a lucid statement of the whole
case, and in half-an-hour he had inspired her with respect for
his opinion, admiration of his sagacity, and confidence in his
strength--not a bad thirty minutes' work. At its conclusion, she shook
hands with him cordially when she wished him good-night. Tom was
no fool, and knew when to venture as when to hold back. He bowed
reverentially over the white hand, muttering only--"God bless you,
Miss Bruce! If you think of anything else, at a moment's notice I will
come from the end of the world to serve you,"--and so hurried away
before she could reply.




CHAPTER V


THE CRACKSMAN'S CHECKMATE


Puckers, or Miss Puckers, as she liked to be called below-stairs,
was a little puzzled by her young mistress's abstraction, while she
brushed out Maud's wealth of raven hair for the night. Stealing
glances at herself in the glass opposite, she could not help observing
the expression on Miss Bruce's face. The light was in it once more
that had been so quenched by her father's death. Puckers, who, in the
housekeeper's room, had discussed the affairs of the family almost
hourly ever since that sorrowful event, considered that it must have
left his daughter in the possession of untold wealth, and that "the