GHOSTS THAT HAUNT THE DEN Looking through the Tommy papers of this period, like a conscientious biographer, I find among them manuscripts that remind me how diligently he set to work at his new book the moment he went North, and also letters which, if printed, would show you what a wise and good man Tommy was.

But while I was fingering those, there floated from them to the floor a loose page, and when I saw that it was a chemist's bill for oil and liniment I remembered something I had nigh forgotten.

"Eureka!" I cried.

"I shall tell the story of the chemist's bill, and some other biographer may print the letters." Well, well! but to think that this scrap of paper should flutter into view to damn him after all those years! The date is Saturday, May 28, by which time Tommy had been a week in Thrums without doing anything very reprehensible, so far as Grizel knew.

She watched for telltales as for a mouse to show at its hole, and at the worst, I think, she saw only its little head.