shut the door of the denuded sitting-room, and, giving her courage no
time to cool, ran across lots to the Blaisdells', the hated money
clasped tightly in her hand. The family was at supper, and the stranger
with them, when she walked in at the kitchen door. She hurried up to
her enemy, and laid the little roll of bills by his plate. Her cheeks
were scarlet, her thin hair-flying.

"Here's your money," she said, in a strained, high voice, "an' I want
our things. You hadn't ought to gone over there an' talked over an old
lady that--that--"

There she stopped. Amanda had never yet acknowledged that her mother
was not in her "perfect mind." Chapman took out a long pocket-book, and
for a moment her courage stood at flood-tide; she thought he was about
to accept the money and put it away. But no! He produced a slip of
white paper and held it up before her. She bent forward and examined
it,--a receipt signed by her mother's shaking hand.

"But it ain't right!" she cried, helpless in her dismay. "Cap'n Jabez,
you speak to him! You know how 'tis about mother! She wouldn't any more
ha' sold that clock than she'd ha' sold--me!"

Captain Jabez looked at his plate in uncomfortable silence. He was a
just man, but he hated to interfere.

"Well, there!" he said, at length, pushing his chair back to leave the
table. "It don't seem jestly right to me, but then he's got the resate,
an' your mother signed it--an' there 'tis!"

"An' you won't do anything?" cried Amanda, passionately, turning back