"HOWARD L. STEPHENSON."

"Oh, Edward, the money is ours, and I am so grateful, _oh_, so
grateful,--kiss me, dear, it's for ever since we kissed--and we needed it
so--the money--and now you are free of Pinkerton and his bank, and
nobody's slave any more; it seems to me I could fly for joy."

It was a happy half-hour that the couple spent there on the settee
caressing each other; it was the old days come again--days that had begun
with their courtship and lasted without a break till the stranger brought
the deadly money. By-and-by the wife said:

"Oh, Edward, how lucky it was you did him that grand service, poor
Goodson! I never liked him, but I love him now. And it was fine and
beautiful of you never to mention it or brag about it." Then, with a
touch of reproach, "But you ought to have told _me_, Edward, you ought to
have told your wife, you know."

"Well, I--er--well, Mary, you see--"

"Now stop hemming and hawing, and tell me about it, Edward. I always
loved you, and now I'm proud of you. Everybody believes there was only
one good generous soul in this village, and now it turns out that
you--Edward, why don't you tell me?"

"Well--er--er--Why, Mary, I can't!"

"You _can't_? _Why_ can't you?"