"Lemuel Aden was a miser," the prophet announced. "He was worse than your uncle, Peter Stower," he added bluntly. "All three of us went to school together. They were much older than I, of course; but I came here to the Corner House to see Peter at times. And I was here when Lem Aden came last."

"We know about that, too," Agnes said, with some eagerness. "Did-did Uncle Peter really turn him out, and did he wander over into Quoharie Township, and die there in the poorhouse?"

Seneca was silent for a minute, nibbling at the cake thoughtfully. "It comes upon my mind," he said at last, "that Peter Stower was greatly maligned about that matter. Peter was a hard man, but he had soft spots in him. He was a great sinner, in that he ate much meat-which is verily against the commandment. For I say unto you-"

"But how about Mr. Lemuel Aden and Uncle Peter?" interrupted Ruth, gently; for the old prophet was likely to switch off on some foreign topic if not shrewdly guided in his speech.

"Ah! Lemuel Aden came back here to Milton when he was an old man. Not so old in years, perhaps; but old in wickedness, and aged beyond his years by his own miserliness. We had heard he was rich, but he declared he had nothing-had lost everything in speculation; and he said all he possessed was in the old carpetbag he brought.

"Peter Stower took him in," Seneca continued. "But Lemuel was a dirty old man and made that colored man a lot of trouble. It was thought by everybody that Lemuel Aden had even more wealth than Peter Stower; but n.o.body ever knew of his spending a penny. Peter said he had money; and so finally turned him out."

"How long did he stay here at the old Corner House?" asked Ruth.

"Verily he would have remained until his end; but Peter became angry with him and threatened to hand him over to the town authorities. They quarreled harshly-I was here at the time. The colored man must have heard much of the quarrel, too," Seneca proceeded.

"I went away in the midst of it. Peace dwelleth with me-yea, verily. I am not a man of wrath. Later I learned that Lemuel Aden went away cursing Peter Stower, and he was never more seen again in Milton."

"But was he poor?" Ruth asked. "Did Uncle Peter turn him out to suffer?"

Seneca Sprague shook his head. "Nay; I would not charge that to Peter Stower's account," he said. "It was believed by everybody, as I say, that Lemuel had much money hidden away. Peter Stower said he knew it."

"Just the same, he died in the Quoharie poorhouse," Agnes cried, quickly.

"He would have been cared for here in Milton by the authorities had he asked help. Peter Stower and Lemuel Aden were both misers. It was said of them that each had the first dollar he ever earned."

"Dear me!" Ruth said, as the old prophet concluded. "If Mr. Aden did have money at any time, it is too bad Mrs. Eland can't find it. She and her sister need it now, if ever they did," and she sighed, thinking of Dr. Forsyth's report upon Miss Pepperill's condition.

CHAPTER VIII

WHERE IS NEALE O'NEIL?

Christmas Day wore away toward evening. A number of the young friends of the Corner House girls ran in to bring gifts and to wish Ruth and Agnes and Tess and Dot a Merry Christmas. Many of them, too, stayed for a moment to speak to Mrs. Eland and Miss Pepperill. The interest aroused by the recently performed play at the Opera House for the benefit of the Women's and Children's Hospital had awakened interest likewise in "the little gray lady" and her sister.

"I never was so popular before with the school children of Milton," the latter said, rather tartly. "I'd better be run down by an automobile about once a year."

"Oh, that would be dreadful!" Tess exclaimed.

"It is a shame you don't know who it was that ran you down. He could be made to pay something," Ruth remarked.

"My goodness! Get money that I hadn't earned!" cried the school teacher.

"I should say you'd earned it-and earned it mighty hard," said Mrs.

MacCall, who happened to hear this.

"It wouldn't be my fortune," said Miss Pepperill, lying back wearily in her chair. "And I don't see how I can go back to those awful youngsters after New Year."

"Sh!" begged Mrs. Eland.

"Oh, my! is our Tess an awful youngster?" asked Dot, bluntly.

"She is a dear!" declared Mrs. Eland, quickly.

"Theresa is an exception," admitted Miss Pepperill. "But I certainly have some little tikes in my room."

"Oh, I know," said Dot. "Like Sammy Pinkney."

"Sammy's sick abed," Tess said, coming into the room in time to hear his name mentioned. "I went over and asked his mother about him. The doctor won't say what it is yet; but he's out of his head."

"Poor Sammy!" said Agnes. "Falling down our chimney yesterday was too much for him. He's an unfortunate little chap after all."

"Oh, my!" Dot observed, "if he is sick and dies, he'll never get to be a pirate, will he?"

"Hear that child!" murmured Miss Pepperill, eyeing Dot as though she were a strange specimen indeed.

"Don't speak so, Dottie," admonished Tess. "That would be dreadful!"

"What? Dreadful if he didn't get to be a pirate?" Agnes asked lightly.

But Tess was serious. "I don't believe Sammy Pinkney is _fit_ to die,"

she declared.

"For pity's sake!" exclaimed Miss Pepperill. "She talks like her grandmother. I never heard such a child as you are, Theresa. But perhaps you are right about Sammy. He's one awful trial."

"But his mother was crying," said Tess, softly.

n.o.body said anything more to the tender-hearted little girl; but Dot brought her the nicest piece of "Christmas" candy in the dish-a long, curly, striped piece, and Agnes hugged her.

Ruth was worried a little about the dinner arrangements. The meal was almost ready to serve, but Neale O'Neil had not come over from Mr. Con Murphy's, where he lived.

"You were cross with him, Agnes, and he won't come back," she said accusingly to the beauty. "And Mrs. MacCall won't wait."

"Oh, he wouldn't disappoint us!" declared Agnes. "He knows we depend on him. Why, half our fun will be spoiled-"

"He evidently isn't coming to dinner."

At that moment Uncle Rufus came to announce that all was ready, and he tucked a twist of paper into Agnes' hand.

"Oh, Ruthie! look here!" the second sister said. "Read this."

The oldest Corner House girl saw it was the handwriting of their boy friend.

"'Don't worry. Santa Claus will appear according to schedule.' Oh! that is all right, then," Ruth said. "He's not coming till after we get through."

"Well! I think that's too mean of him," cried Agnes.