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 nisons, but you needn't carry it so far. The fact is, boys," he continued, sitting down in his arm-chair with some difficulty—"the fact is Loreta an' I have come to the conclusion that our Mr. Winthrop Jennison's grown to be a pretty shady and suspicious sort of character. His life an' his business seem to be matters that honest folks needn't inquire into too closely. There, Loreta!"

"Now, Obed!" retorted Mrs. Probasco, in great annoyance, "you oughtn't to say that! You don't know, for certain, any more than I do."

"May be I don't know so much. May be I know more—more even than I've let on, my dear! For one thing, I haven't ever yet given you the particulars of what Clagg told me that last afternoon I went over to pay the rent an' learn if Mr. Jennison 'd come from Boston."

"Mr. Clagg? What did Mr. Clagg say, Obed?" asked the wife, her work and the boys forgotten in her sudden anxiety. Evidently the mysterious Mr. Jennison was a standing topic of debate between the pair. "How could you keep so still about it?"

"Well, I'll let you hear now," Obed replied,