JOE BRAZYBONE was walking slowly up the village street, on his way home. He seemed deep in thought, and his round shoulders were bowed forward, as if beneath a heavy weight. The few boys who were hanging about called after him, but he paid no attention to them. Usually, they were able to rouse him to frenzy by the song that one of their number had composed, and it was their delight to see him turn and chase them, with uncouth gestures of malediction.

But to-day the insulting chant fell on unheeding ears, which was disappointing. Joe shambled along till he reached the low, brown cottage, where he and his sister-in-law wrangled their lives along. He looked up and around before entering the house, scanning sea and sky with sharp, weather-wise eyes.

“It’s getting time for her!” he muttered to himself. “Soft sky, and everythin’ turnin’ green along by; time she was back here, to see things growin’. She never could stand it there in summer, not Isly couldn’t.”

Reaching the poor little room which was his castle and his defence against all storms, Joe sat for a time in meditation; then he rose, and, after carefully reconnoitring the premises, and deciding that Ma’am Brazybone was nowhere about, he went on tiptoe to a cupboard in the wall, and examined its contents. One by one he drew out several objects, and, after looking them over with anxious scrutiny, proceeded to arrange them in orderly lines on his bed, which served for table, also. A look of honest pride spread over his homely face, as he gazed at these objects; he took from a drawer an old rag of red handkerchief, and slowly and methodically wiped off every one, spying for a particle of dust. It was a motley array. A pair of silver-bowed spectacles; a bracelet of carnelian beads; a brass thimble and a horn snuff-box; a brooch of the mineral called goldstone, set in tarnished, coppery gold; a piece of red coral, smoothed and polished; an ancient parasol, of faded green silk; these were the contents of Joe’s treasury. He gloated over them, lifting first one and then another; he murmured praise of them to the four walls that were his only hearers.

“Them’s pretty beads!” he said, slipping the string over his great red wrist, and rubbing the smooth balls with delight. “Lovely, them is! I remember of Pop Brazybone’s bringin’ ’em home to little Sister Marthy, as if ’twas yesterday. She was tickled ’most to death, warn’t she? Poor little Marthy! She warn’t rugged enough to grow up. Old Joe had the ruggedness, and the ugliness, too; she was well-favoured, little Marthy was; not anythin’ to speak of like Isly, but well-favoured for Brazybones. Wouldn’t Isly look handsome in them! she’d be more than handsome, she’d be pretty! And she’s goin’ to have ’em, too. Isly don’t know it yet, but she’s goin’ to have old Joe’s handsome things, when she comes back, to wear like a lady, and put city folks to their shames.

“This sunshade, now! wal, I feel some dubious about this sunshade. ’Tis tasty, real tasty, but I kind o’ feel that Isly wouldn’t want to carry that; unless she was goin’ to meetin’. Yes, she might take it with her to meetin’.” He nodded, relieved.

“The specs I’ll have to keep, I calc’late; no need for them on Isly’s eyes, that’s bright as sunshine. Old Joe’ll put ’em on himself, mebbe, some day, and he might look better for ’em.”

He put the spectacles on his nose, and, finding a bit of cracked looking-glass in a corner, gazed for a moment at his reflection; then he shook his head.

“Nothin’ seems to make much difference in your looks, Joe. Look a leetle wuss in ’em than what you do out of ’em. Wal, now, how long do you suppose Mother Brazybone can stand seein’ them featurs every day, right along? ’Tis a caution, how she bears up as she doos; but she’s terrible rugged, Mother Brazybone is. I don’t expect I’ll git red on her this long time.

“Now here!” He held up the goldstone brooch, and looked at it with reverence.

“That’s a fine piece of joolery, that is. When I go up to Bellton, how’d it be if I took that piece of joolery along for Isly? She’d think a sight of it; ma’am did, I know. How’d it be if I jest handed it in at the door, keerless like, and said to that whopper-jawed piece of putty with buttons on to him, ‘You give that to young Lady Heron,’ I says, ‘and you tell her the man as brought it is at the door,’ I says, ‘and she’s only got to say the word and there’ll be more like it.’ Why—there is more like it, ain’t there? Where’s them ear-bobs?”

He turned over each article with laborious care, searching for what might lie under them. Finding nothing, he went to the cupboard, and ransacked it, his face growing more and more troubled. The sweat broke out on his forehead, and he mopped it with the rag of handkerchief; he felt in every corner; he looked under the bed, thinking that the earrings might have fallen and rolled out of sight; but no earrings were to be seen.

He was still searching painfully, when the sound of footsteps was heard in the outer room. A suspicion darted into Joe’s mind, and clung there like a snake. With shaking hands he put his treasures back in the cupboard, heaping them carelessly, instead of ranging them in order, as he loved to do. He turned the key, noticing for the first time what a common pattern it was, and how easily any other key in the house might fit the lock; then, putting it in his pocket, he went into the outer room, closing the door behind him.

Mrs. Brazybone was standing with her back to him, taking off her bonnet leisurely, and humming a psalm tune as she did so; she had been at a “singing tea-party,” and had enjoyed herself immensely. Her brother-in-law took her by the shoulders and whirled her round to face him; his eyes were blazing, the muscles on his temples stood out like brown cords, and his jaws worked for a moment before the words would come.

“You—you—” he stammered, “you critter, you’ve got my ear-bobs! Who give you leave to ransack my cupboard and take my joolery?”

For a moment Mrs. Brazybone was at a loss; but the next moment she spoke, with good assurance.

“Was you thinkin’ of wearin’ ’em yourself, Joe? I’m sure I’d never have tetched ’em, if I’d ha’ thought you wanted to put ’em in your own handsome ears.”

“You critter!” said Joe again, shaking her great shoulders, till her chin waggled to and fro. “Take them bobs out, hear? Ain’t you satisfied with the rest of what you are, ’thout addin’ thief on to it? Will you take ’em out, or shall I take ’em out for ye?”

Mrs. Brazybone thought rapidly; her eyes brightened for a moment with lust of battle, but she felt Joe’s hands like iron on her shoulders, and decided for peace. Her voice took on a tone of whining bluster.

“Well, Joseph Brazybone! if I ever thought to hear your brother’s widder called a thief in this world! Poor Jabez! I’m glad he ain’t here; ’t would break his heart to hear me spoke so of.”

Joe snorted, but she saw no relenting in his eyes, so she began slowly to take out the earrings.

“They’re terrible paltry bobs,” she said. “I should think you’d be glad to see ’em worn by a respectable lady, Joseph, ’stead of takin’ on this way!” and she sniffed, as she handed the precious ornaments to their owner.

“Respectable!” roared Joe, who had kept an anxious silence while the earrings were being removed, but with them safe in his hands now felt that he could give the rein to his feelings.

“You respectable, you half-fruz jelly-fish? You’ve never ben threatened with bein’ respectable! Don’t you be afraid, Mother Brazybone, nobody’ll ever say that of ye! But now, see here! you let my belongings alone, do ye hear? from henceforth now and forever, so help ye; or I’ll trim yer ears to match yer nose, and then the hull island ’ud fly away in the air to get out of the sight of ye.”

He retired with his rescued treasures, and Mrs. Brazybone congratulated herself on getting off so easily. She had counted on restoring the gauds before Joe came back from fishing, and had been regretting all the afternoon that she had not taken the brooch as well; now she reflected that “a passel o’ words didn’t do one a might o’ hurt,” and remembered with a thrill of pride how many eyes had been fixed admiringly on the dangling ornaments. She promised herself to be more careful next time; but the next time she opened the cupboard with her door-key, the treasury was empty.