tempest of wind and rain.

At four, the basethe field-house for

ball candidates scooted to cover, although, peering forth through a drenched window, Laurie discerned the football players still at work. Lee Murdock said he guessed the equinoctial storm had come, and that if it had, there 'd be no practice for a couple of days. Laurie tried to look broken-hearted and failed dismally. Taking advantage of a lull in the downpour, he and Lee, with many of the others, set forth for school. They were still far short of the gymnasium, however, when the torrent began again, and it was a wet, bedraggled, and breathless crowd that presently pushed through the door. George Watson, who had been playing tennis before the rain started, was philosophically regarding a pair of "unshrinkable" flannel trousers which, so he declared, had already receded an inch at the bottoms. It was George who suggested that, after changing to dry clothing, they go over to the Widow's and have ice-cream at his expense. Not possessing a rain-coat of his own, Laurie invaded Number 15 and borrowed Kewpie's. It was many sizes too large, but it answered. The Widow's was full when he and George and Lee got there, and the pastry counter looked as though it had been visited by an invading army. There was still ice-cream, though, and the three squeezed into a corner and became absorbedly silent for a space. Polly was helping her mother, and Laurie exchanged greetings with her, but she was far too busy for conversation. Lee treated to a second round of ice-cream, and afterward Laurie bought a bag of old-fashioned chocolates. He hoped Polly would wait on him, but it was Polly's mother who did so and asked after his brother as she filled the paper sack.

"I do hope you 're looking after him and that he has n't eaten those raspberry tarts yet," she said pleasantly.

"Yes 'm," said Laurie. "I mean, he has n't." He thought it surprising that the Widow Deane was able to tell them apart. Even Kewpie and George frequently made mistakes.

It was still pouring when they went out again, and they hurried up the street and around the corner into School Park, their progress somewhat delayed by the fact that Laurie had placed the bag of candy in an outside pocket of Kewpie's capacious raincoat and that all three had difficulty in finding it. Lee had just popped a big chocolate into his mouth and George was

this! Here's a house. Come on!" There was an opening in a high hedge, and a short brick walk from which the drops were rebounding knee-high, and, seen dimly through the deluge, a porch at the end of it. They reached it in what Laurie called three leaps and a jump, and, under shelter of the roof, drew breath and looked back into the gray welter. The park was invisible, and even the high lilac hedge was only a blurred shape. Lee had to shout to make himself heard above the rain.

"Wonder who lives here," he said. "I don't remember this house."

"Sure you do!" said George. "This is the Coventry house. We're on the side porch." "Oh!" Lee gazed doubtfully into the rain. "Well, anyway, it 'll do. Gee, my trousers are soaked to the knees! How long do you suppose this will keep up?" "You said for two days," answered Laurie, cheerfully, trying to dry his neck with a moist handkerchief.

"I mean this shower, you chump!"

"Call this a shower? What 's a cloudburst like in this part of the country then?" "We don't have such things," answered George, who was peering through a sidelight into the dim interior. "Say, I thought this place was empty," he continued. "I can see chairs and table in there."

"No, some one rented it this fall," said Lee. "I noticed the other day that the front door was open and the grass had been cut. I would n't want to live in the place, though."

"Why?" inquired Laurie.

But before any answer came, the door was suddenly opened within a few inches of George's nose and a voice said:

"You fellows had better come inside until it 's over."

CHAPTER VIII

IN THE MISER'S HOUSE

THE invitation came from a boy of about sixteen, a slim, eminently attractive chap, who smiled persuasively through the aperture. Laurie knew that he had seen him

entered in the spring changed his mind; otherwise, I'd have had to go to the high school."

"That would have been an awful fate," said George, gravely.

"Oh, I would n't have minded. I like Hillman's, though. Do any of you chaps play tennis?"

"I try to," answered George.

"Wish you 'd give me a game some day. Tennis is about the only thing I know much about, and I saw some dandy courts over at the field."

"Glad to," George assured him. "Any day you like, Starling. I'm not much of a player, though, so don't expect a lot."

"Guess you're good enough to handle me," laughed the other. "I like it better than I can play it. How about to-morrow afternoon?"

"Suits me," answered George. "Threethirty?"

"Fine! I'm going to get Dad to build a court in the yard here if I can. There's lots of room, but there's a tumble-down old grape-arbor right in the middle."

"Yes, there's surely room enough," agreed Lee. "We used to come over here last fall and get pears. There's a dandy seckel tree back there. I'd say there was room for two or three courts if some of the trees were cut down."

"What could he do with three of them?" asked Laurie.

"I suppose we 'd have to get the owner's permission to even take that rickety old arbor down," Starling said.

"I thought the owner was dead," Lee observed.

George chuckled. "If he was dead, he would n't be the owner, you simple! Old Coventry died three or four years ago, but somebody owns the place, of course. If what they tell of the old chap is true, it must have broken his heart to know he could n't take the place with him! Maybe he took his money with him, though. Anyway, the story goes that he had slathers of it, and they could only find a couple of thousands when he died."

"What was he, a miser?" asked Starling. "Yes, one of the sort you read about in the stories. Lived here all alone for years and years with only a negro servant. They say you could never see a light in the place at night, and he never went off the front porch more than a couple of times a year. carriage came for him and he got in and went

Then a

down to the boat. down to the boat. He did n't use the train because it cost too much. Of course, when he died, folks expected to find that he had left a mint of money; but all any one could discover was about two thousand dollars in one of the banks here-that, and this property. The heirs, whoever they were, pretty near tore the insides out of the house, they say, looking for coin, but they did n't get anything."

"And at night the old codger's ghost walks around," added Lee; "and if you follow him, he'll take you to the place the money 's hidden."

"Honest?" exclaimed Starling, joyfully. "Gosh, that's great! I always wanted to live in a house with a ghost."

"I'm sorry then," said George, "for I just made that part up."

"You did?" Lee looked incredulous. "Where do you come in? I've heard that ever since I came here."

"No, sir, you may have heard the rest of the story, but not the part about the ghost. I wrote the yarn up in my junior year for an English comp., and tucked on the ghost feature as a sort of added climax. Got good marks, too, and the Orstead paper published the thing. I'll show it to you, if you like."

Lee looked unconvinced still, and Starling disappointed. "Well, it's a good story, anyway, and makes the place more interesting. Some day I 'll have a look myself for the hidden millions."

"Guess the old chap never had that much," said George. "Thirty or forty thousand is about what he was supposed to have salted away."

"Scarcely worth bothering about," observed Laurie, with a yawn.

"But look here, what became of the servant?" asked Starling. "Maybe he got the dough and made off with it."

"Lots of folks thought that," replied George; "but the theory did n't pan out for a cent. The negro stuck around here for quite awhile and then ambled off somewhere. He claimed that old Coventry died owing him a month's wages, and tried to get some one to pay him, but I guess he never got any of it, if it was really owing."

"Where did he go to?" asked Starling. "I don't know. New York City, I think." "I'll bet he either had the money or knew where it was," declared Starling, with conviction. "Don't you see, fellows, he did just what any one would do in his case? He stuck around so he would n't be suspected.

If he 'd gone right off, folks would have said he was trying to avoid being asked about the money. And then he faked up the yarn about the old gentleman owing him wages. A first-class detective would have got trace of the coin, I'll wager!"

"You 've been reading Sherlock Holmes, laughed Lee. "Why don't you follow up your clue, find the negro, and restore the lost wealth to the starving heirs?"

"Huh! If he did get the money, he 's where even Sherlock Holmes would n't find him by this time. Some one should have followed the fellow and kept watch on him right then. How old was he, Watson?"

"About fifty, I guess. They say he had white whiskers, anyway. Oh, he did n't know any more than he said he did. He was all right. He had been with old Coventry for years and years, one of those old-time family servants, you know, honest and faithful. Why, he went on something fierce when the old chap died!"

"Say, how much of this guff is real and how much of it is English composition?" asked Lee, suspiciously. "How do you know the negro took on when the old codger died? You were n't here."

"Maybe I heard it," replied George, grinning.

"Yes, and maybe you just made it up, like the stuff about the ghost," Lee retorted sarcastically. "I've heard the yarn two or three times, but I never heard that the negro had white whiskers or that he went into mourning!"

"It's a fact, though," declared the other, warmly. "I prepared mighty well on that comp.; talked with half a dozen persons who knew the story. Got most of the stuff from the Widow Deane, though. Old Coventry had been dead only about two years then and folks were still talking about him. Widow does n't think the old chap had nearly as much money as he was supposed to have." "She has the little store around on the back street?" asked Starling.

The

"Yes. She took that as her share." "Her share of what?" demanded Lee. "Why, of the estate. Old Coventry owned the whole half block right through from Walnut Street to Pine. She rented that house from him until he died; paid a good stiff price, too; and then, when the estate was finally settled, she took it as her share, although she had to pay the other heirs something because they claimed that it was worth more than she had a right to."

"Look here," said Lee, "do you mean that the Widow Deane was one of old Coventry's heirs?"

"Of course! Did n't you know it? She was a half-sister. She lived over in New Jersey, she told me, until her husband died. Then she wrote to old Coventry, asking him to help her because she did n't have much money, and he invited her to come here. She thought he meant to give her a home with him; but when she got here, the best he would do was rent her that little house around on Pine Street and stock it up for her as a store. Then he built a fence between the two places. It used to be open right through."

"Gee, you certainly know a lot of ancient history!" marveled Lee.

"I believe in being thorough," laughed George. "When I tackle a subject I get a

fall out of it."

"So when I trail the murderer-I mean the thief," reflected Starling, "I'll be doing the old lady back there a good turn, won't I?”

"Surest thing you know!" agreed George. "And she needs the money, guess. I don't

believe she makes a fortune out of that emporium. And that daughter of hers is a nice kid, too."

"How many other heirs are there to share in the money when Starling finds it?" asked Laurie.

"I don't know. Quite a bunch, I believe. The old chap was n't married, and the heirs are nephews and nieces and things like that. The Widow's the only one living around here, though."

"Well, when I do find it," laughed Starling, "I'll keep it quiet and hand it all over to the Widow."

"He wants to make a hit with Polly," said Lee. "He's a fox."

"I've never seen her," Starling denied. "Well, she's a mighty pretty girl," George avowed. "If you don't believe me, ask Nod." Laurie looked intensely innocent and very surprised. "Why me?" he asked blandly.

George shook his head, grinning. "You can't get away with it, son! Think I did n't see you making love to the old lady this afternoon?"

"Well," Laurie laughed, "I thought it was Polly you spoke of."

"Sure, but she was busy waiting on a bunch of juniors and so you made up to the Widow. We saw you smirking and talking sweet to her, did n't we, Lee? Butter would n't have melted in the dear lamb's mouth.