she did, that the obligation he felt for her kindness was too
great to be lightly treated.

Phil got at his task at once, and in a few moments she heard him
whistling an accompaniment to the steady thud, thud of the axe as
he swung it with strong, resolute arms.

"He's a fine boy," was the Widow Cahill's muttered conclusion.

Phil continued at his work without intermission until an hour had
passed. Mrs. Cahill went out, begging that he come in and rest.

"Rest? Why, haven't I been resting all night? I feel as if I
could chop down the house and work it up into kindling wood, all
before school time. What time is it?"

"Nigh on to seven o'clock. I've wanted to ask you something ever
since you told me you had left Abner Adams. It's rather a
personal question."

The lad nodded.

"Did your uncle send you away without any money?"

"Of course. Why should he have given me anything so long as I
was going to leave him?"

"Did you ever hear him say that your mother had left a little
money with him before she died--money that was to be used for
your education as long as it lasted?"