Kenny Part 38

"Yes," said Joan, "we should have built a fire."

"The fireplace!" cried Hughie hoa.r.s.ely.

"It's too late now," said Kenny irritably. "I'm chilled through."

"No, no, Mr. O'Neill, I'm not meaning the fire. It's the one place we haven't looked."

"It won't hurt none to look, Mr. O'Neill," urged Hannah, who knew that Kenny's energy was subject to undependable ebb and now. "If Hughie goes out of here with that fireplace on his mind, he'll dream all night about it."

Kenny strode to the fireplace with Hughie at his heels and jerked impatiently at the mantel. It was st.u.r.dy and unyielding.

"I feared so," he said with a shrug.

Hughie seized the lamp.

"Hold the lamp, Mr. O'Neill," he begged, crouching. "I've got to look at them bricks. Careful, sir! You're tipping it."

Huddled in the glare of the lamp they stared in fascination at the smoky bricks.

"The bricks are loose!" exclaimed Hughie. "Look here!" He rattled one with his finger.

Kenny emitted a long low whistle of intense amazement.

"Hughie, where's your knife?" he flung out wildly. "I think we're on the trail!"

"The lamp's shaking!" warned Hannah. "Let me hold it."

"Oh, my G.o.d!" gasped Hughie with the dot fever flaring in his honest eyes. "That ain't mortar. It's only ashes. Look!"

Kenny frantically pulled out a brick and dropped it with a clatter.

Another and another.

"Hold the lamp closer, Hannah!" directed Hughie, reaching within.

"There's something here!"

Shaking violently he pulled forth a battered box and flung back the lid. It was stuffed to the brim with ragged money.

"Glory be to G.o.d!" cried Kenny and proceeded to pull the mantel down.

But he found no more.

"And to think of him burrowin' there in the bricks," marveled Hannah, "and him that weak a child could push him over."

"Ah!" said Kenny, "but his will was strong."

He counted the money with trembling fingers and a smile, curiously pleased and tender, and declared his belief that the doctor was right.

The ragged h.o.a.rding--he s.h.i.+vered slightly with revulsion as he touched a tattered bill--represented the rest, residue and remainder of Adam's wealth wheresoever situate. And thanks to Hughie's inspiration the executor had found it.

"Four thousand dollars!" he announced at last in a voice of disappointment.

"And a lucky thing," said Hughie with an air of pride, "that I thought of the fireplace. For it might have laid there buried for the rest of time."

"Four thousand dollars!" gasped Hannah in a reverential voice. "Four thousand dollars! Well, Mr. O'Neill, it may not be much, as you seem to think after all the dots you and Hughie have been a-diggin', but I say it's a lot. It ought to buy the child all the frocks and teachers in New York."

"It will see her through the year," said Kenny.

Joan's eyes widened.

"It would see me through a decade!" she exclaimed.

Kenny smiled.

CHAPTER XXVIII

KENNY'S WARD

Peace came mercifully to Craig farm with the finding of Adam's money.

"Toby," Joan whispered to the cat, her soft cheek pressed against his fur, "I'm going away. And I can't believe it! I can't! I can't! I can't!"

"Toby will miss you," said Hannah. "And so will I. And so will Hughie and Hetty." She cleared her throat. "As for Mr. O'Neill, Toby won't be likely to miss him at all. He's stepped too many inches off his tail. Hughie thinks it must be paralyzed. I never saw Mr. O'Neill headin' for a new dot but what I knew Toby would be sure to stick his tail in the way and start a row."

Joan's face clouded.

"Oh, Hannah, if only I knew where Donald is!"

Hannah sighed.

"I wish you did, dear."

"It seems so dreadful with Uncle gone and everything changed. And Donald doesn't even know. Think, Hannah, I may pa.s.s him in the train."

"You may," said Hannah. "And then again you mayn't."

"What if he comes home? What if he writes? It seems that I just should be here."

"If he writes, I'll send the letter. And if he comes, Hughie can ride down and telegraph you word."

"It's snowing," exclaimed Joan at the kitchen window. "Harder and harder. Oh, Hannah, if it keeps up we shan't be able to go to Briston to-morrow for my suit."

"We'll go in the sleigh. Hughie spoke of it at breakfast."

"A brown suit," mused Joan with s.h.i.+ning eyes. "A brown hat and furs!

Think, Hannah! _Furs_! I do hope I shall look well in them."