And to this I set my hand, this 17th day of September, 1856._" "_Signed_" "_Ebenezer Transom._" "_Witnessed by_" "_John Hooper._" "_Peter Tregaskis._" The document was in the old man's handwriting, and clearly of his composition.

But it was plain enough, and the signatures genuine.
'Lizabeth's hand dropped.
"I never knew a word o' this, William," she said humbly.
Mrs.Transom broke into an incredulous titter.
"Ugh! get along, you designer!" "William," appealed 'Lizabeth, "I've never had no thought o' robbin' you." 'Lizabeth had definite notions of right and wrong, and this disinheritance of William struck her conservative mind as a violation of Nature's laws.
William's silence was his wife's opportunity.
"Robbery's the word, you baggage! You thought to buy him wi' your ill-got gains.

Ugh! go along wi' you!" 'Lizabeth threw a desperate look towards the cause of this trouble--the pale mask lying on the pillows.

Finding no help, she turned to William again-- "You believe I meant to rob you ?" Meeting her eyes, William bent his own on the floor, and lied.
"I reckon you meant to buy me, Cousin 'Lizabeth." His wife tittered spitefully.
"Woman!" cried the girl, lapping up her timid merriment in a flame of wrath.

"Woman, listen to me.