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There was a note of dignity in the reply which was new to me, and for that reason probably I have always remembered it. "Please present my thanks to the Captain and tell him that I expect to go up to Lickitysplit in the town of Ballybeen." He dipped some porridge into bowls and put them on a small table.

Hacket in one breath. "For bloody murder, sir," the Colonel went on. "It was the shooting of that man in the town o' Ballybeen a few weeks ago. Things have come to a pretty pass in this country, I should say. Talk about law and order, we don't know what it means here and why should we? The party in power is avowedly opposed to it yes, sir. It has fattened upon bribery and corruption.

President, this is my young friend Barton Baynes of the neighborhood of Lickitysplit in the town of Ballybeen a coming man of this county." "Come on," was the playful remark of the President as he took my hand. "I shall be looking for you."

A traveler on the road to Ballybeen had dropped his pocketbook containing a large amount of money two thousand seven hundred dollars was the sum, if I remember rightly. He was a man who, being justly suspicious of the banks, had withdrawn his money. Posters announced the loss and the offer of a large reward. The village was profoundly stirred by them.

I went to bed feeling better. Next day the stage, on its way to Ballybeen, came to our house and left a box and a letter from Mr. Wright, addressed to my uncle, which read: "DEAR SIR I send herewith a box of books and magazines in the hope that you or Miss Baynes will read them aloud to my little partner and in doing so get some enjoyment and profit for yourselves.

It turned out that Grimshaw left him an annuity of three thousand dollars, which he can enjoy as long as he observes one condition." "What is that?" "He must not let his daughter marry one Barton Baynes, late o' the town o' Ballybeen. How is that for spite, my boy? They say it's written down in the will."

I ran to meet him with a joy in my heart as great as any I have ever known. He greeted me with a cheerful word and leaned over me and held me close against his legs and looked into my eyes and asked: "Are you willin' to kiss me?" I kissed him and then he said: "If ye ever hear me talk like that ag'in, I'll let the stoutest man in Ballybeen hit me with his ax."

So the lost pocketbook became a treasured mystery of the village and of all the hills and valleys toward Ballybeen a topic of old wives and gabbing husbands at the fireside for unnumbered years. By and by the fall term of school ended. Uncle Peabody came down to get me the day before Christmas. I had enjoyed my work and my life at the Hackets', on the whole, but I was glad to be going home again.

The following affidavit, secured by an assistant of the district attorney from a young physician in a village above Ballybeen, never a matter of record, heightened its interest for me and my friends. He further alleged that his friend was in trouble and being sought after and that he, the caller, dared not, therefore, reveal the place where his friend had taken refuge.