The housekeeper and her son had seen, with increasing alarm, the growing attachment of Mrs. Granville for Paul.

“Something’s got to be done, Frost,” she said, decidedly. “That boy is setting the old woman against us.”

“That’s so, mother; she never wants me to go with her now. I might as well be out of the house, so far as any notice of me goes.”

“She’s mighty cool to me, too, Frost. I suspected how it would be when that boy came into the house. He’s the artfulest young one I ever knew.”

“The two of us ought to be a match for him,” grumbled Frost. “I’ll give him a lickin’ if you say so.”

“It would do no good. She’d only take his part, and as likely as not send you packing. No, we must adopt a different course.”

“What shall it be? You’re smarter than I am, mother. I’ll do whatever you think best.”

“I’ve thought of a plan, Frost,” said Mrs. Mercer, and she proceeded to communicate it to him.

“That’ll do,” said the son, in a tone of satisfaction. “We’ve got to give her a bad opinion of her favorite, and then we’ll get rid of him.”

This conversation took place in Frost’s room one evening. This room adjoined Paul’s, and it so happened that in the upper part of the room there was a round hole in the partition, made probably for the entrance of a funnel, which rendered it easy for conversation to be heard in the adjoining room. Paul had been spending the evening in Mrs. Mercer’s room, but was dismissed earlier than usual, and had retired to his own bed room. So it chanced that he heard the details of the plot against him.

It did not surprise him much, for he was quite aware of the housekeeper’s hostility towards him. He had been on the point of lighting his lamp, but decided not to do so, and noiselessly prepared for bed. He felt that forewarned was forearmed, and he determined to tell Mrs. Granville what he had heard.

This he did the next morning. The old lady listened attentively.

“I did not believe Mrs. Mercer capable of such wickedness,” she said. “After all the kindness I have heaped upon her, too!”

“I suppose she is jealous of me,” suggested Paul. “For my part, I wish her no harm. I would not have told you, except to defend myself in advance of any charges she may make against me.”

“You have done right, Paul,” said the old lady, kindly. “Mrs. Mercer selfishly wishes to monopolize all my favors. Whatever I may do for you would not have interfered with her, if she had behaved properly. Now she must take the consequences of her folly.”

Early in the afternoon, Mrs. Granville directed Paul to bring the carriage round to the door. When they had driven a quarter of a mile, she said: “You may drive me to Coleraine, Paul.”

This was an adjoining town, about four miles away.

Reaching the town, the old lady directed Paul to drive her to the office of her lawyer. Finding him in, she said: “You may take the horse to the stable, and come back in an hour. I have some business to attend to.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” said Paul, obediently.

He returned in an hour, but had to wait half an hour longer. Then the old lady came out, and seemed unusually cheerful.

“Paul,” she said, “I have been making my will.”

“I thought it might have been made already,” said our hero.

“So it was, but I have made a new one.”

Paul did not feel called upon to reply.

“I have not forgotten you,” continued Mrs. Granville, kindly.

“Thank you very much,” said Paul, gratefully. “I won’t pretend to be sorry, but I hope it will be a long time before I reap any benefit from it.”

“I am sure of that, Paul,” said the old lady. “You are not selfish and self seeking like Mrs. Mercer and Frost. They were handsomely remembered in my former will, but I had not found them out then.”

When they reached the house, Mrs. Mercer herself opened the door. There was a look of blended mystery and triumph on her face as she admitted them.

“Can I speak with you a minute in private, Mrs. Granville?” she said with a significant glance in Paul’s direction.

“Certainly, Mrs. Mercer. Paul, you may go out and put up the horse.”

“It’s coming,” thought Paul.

“Well, what is it, Mercer?” asked the old lady, as she led the way into her own chamber.

“It’s about that boy, ma’am.”

“About Paul?”

“Yes, ma’am. I know you think him an angel.”

“Well, not quite that, Mercer,” smiled Mrs. Granville.

“At any rate, you think a great deal of him.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I never liked him for my part,” continued the housekeeper, spitefully. “I always distrusted him. I thought him a snake in the grass.”

“Come, Mercer, that’s rather a heavy indictment of the poor boy.”

“I can prove all I say, ma’am,” said the housekeeper. “I thought you were wrong in trusting him.”

“What has he done? Come to the point.”

“You see this, ma’am,” said Mrs. Mercer, producing a breast pin set with pearls.

“Yes, it is mine.”

“Where do you think I found it?”

“Suppose you tell me.”

“In the boy’s bureau drawer, while you were out.”

“How did you happen to be examining his drawer?” asked the old lady, sharply.

“Because from things I have noticed I suspected he meant to rob you. I didn’t expect to find that, I confess, but I did think I should find something. This favorite of yours is nothing but a thief.”

“You may call him, Mrs. Mercer. It is only fair to hear what he has to say for himself.”

Mrs. Mercer needed no second bidding. She hurried to the stables and found Paul occupied in unharnessing the horses.

“Frost,” she said, “just finish unharnessing the horses. Mrs. Granville wants to see this young gentleman.”

Frost obeyed with unwonted alacrity, and Paul quietly followed the housekeeper into the house. He was not particularly alarmed, for he had already put a spoke in the housekeeper’s wheel, though she was quite unaware of it.

“Has Mrs. Granville an errand for me to do?” he asked, suppressing a smile.

“You’ll find out what she wants of you,” returned the housekeeper, tossing her head. “Young man, your course is about run!”

“Is it?” asked Paul, innocently.

He followed Mrs. Mercer into Mrs. Granville’s chamber. The old lady was sitting in her arm chair by the window.

“I’ve brought him, ma’am,” said Mrs. Mercer. “Now you can find out for yourself what a viper he is.”

“Paul,” said the old lady, mildly, “Mrs. Mercer tells me she found this breast pin in your bureau drawer. Do you know anything about it?”

“No, ma’am,” answered Paul, not betraying the slightest confusion.

“Of course he would say so,” remarked the housekeeper.

“Yet, Mrs. Mercer says she found it in your drawer.”

“What was she doing there?” asked Paul.

“Tracking a thief!” answered Mrs. Mercer, spitefully.

“She charges you with stealing the breast pin from my room, Paul.”

“Yes, I do; how did it get into your drawer unless you stole it? Answer me that, Mr. Paul Parton.”

“I suppose you put it there,” returned Paul, calmly.

Mrs. Mercer held up both hands in indignant protest. “Did you ever hear the likes, ma’am?” she ejaculated. “He’s a thief, and unfit to stay in your house.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Mercer,” said Paul, quite coolly, “but didn’t you arrange this little plot against me last evening in conversation with your son?”

“What do you mean?” ejaculated the housekeeper.

“I happened to be in my room, and overheard you.”

“Do you believe this impudent lie, Mrs. Granville?” the housekeeper asked, desperately.

“I have reason to believe Paul,” answered the old lady, “for this breast pin, which you say you found in Paul’s room during my absence, I distinctly remember leaving in my own bureau drawer when I left the house this afternoon.”

Mrs. Mercer was panic stricken. She turned to leave the room, quite overwhelmed, but Mrs. Granville called her back.

“Stay, Mrs. Mercer,” she said, “I have something to say to you.”