happy, joyous note that seemed to fill the meadow.
We waited for him before the stand of bees, and Randolph turned on him when he came.
"Abner," he said, "what is the answer to this damned riddle?"
"You gave it, Randolph," he replied—"'Singing masons building roofs of gold.'" And he pointed to the bees. "When I saw that the cap on one of the gums had been moved I thought Betts' gold was there, and when I saw the wax on the coins I was certain."
"But," cried Randolph, "you spoke of creatures not human—creatures that could enter through the keyhole—creatures"
"I spoke of the bees," replied my uncle.
"But you said Betts would have fallen into hell if he had struck out with his ax!"
"He would have killed his daughter," replied Abner. "Can you think of a more fearful hell? She took the gold and hid it in the bee cap. But she was honest with her father; whenever she sent a sum of money to her brother she returned an equal number of gold pieces to old Betts' jar."
"Then," said Randolph, with a great oath, "there is no witch here with her familiar spirits?"
"Now that," replied my uncle, "will depend upon the imagery of language. There is here a subtle maiden and a stand of bees!"
