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When the morning came Miss Calista lost no time in setting out for Kerrytown, where the money was soon safely deposited in the bank. She heaved a sigh of relief when she left the building.

I feel as if I could enjoy life once more, she said to herself. Goodness me, if I’d had to keep that money by me for a week itself, I’d have been a raving lunatic by the end of it.

Miss Calista had shopping to do and friends to visit in town, so that the dull autumn day was well nigh spent when she finally got back to Cooperstown and paused at the corner store to get a bundle of matches.

The store was full of men, smoking and chatting around the fire, and Miss Calista, whose pet abomination was tobacco smoke, was not at all minded to wait any longer than she could help. But Abiram Fell was attending to a previous customer, and Miss Calista sat grimly down by the counter to wait her turn.

The door opened, letting in a swirl of raw November evening wind and Ches Maybin. He nodded sullenly to Mr. Fell and passed down the store to mutter a message to a man at the further end.

Miss Calista lifted her head as he passed and sniffed the air as a charger who scents battle. The smell of tobacco was strong, and so was that of the open boxes of dried herring on the counter, but plainly, above all the commingled odours of a country grocery, Miss Calista caught a whiff of peppermint, so strong as to leave no doubt of its origin. There had been no hint of it before Ches Maybin’s entrance.

The latter did not wait long. He was out and striding along the shadowy road when Miss Calista left the store and drove smartly after him. It never took Miss Calista long to make up her mind about anything, and she had weighed and passed judgement on Ches Maybin’s case while Mr. Fell was doing up her matches.

The lad glanced up furtively as she checked her fat grey pony beside him.

“Good evening, Chester,” she said with brisk kindness. “I can give you a lift, if you are going my way. Jump in, quick–Dapple is a little restless.”

A wave of crimson, duskily perceptible under his sunburned skin, surged over Ches Maybin’s face. It almost seemed as if he were going to blurt out a blunt refusal. But Miss Calista’s face was so guileless and her tone so friendly, that he thought better of it and sprang in beside her, and Dapple broke into an impatient trot down the long hill lined with its bare, wind-writhen maples.

After a few minutes’ silence Miss Calista turned to her moody companion.

“Chester,” she said, as tranquilly as if about to ask him the most ordinary question in the world, “why did you climb into my house last night and try to steal my money?”

Ches Maybin started convulsively, as if he meant to spring from the buggy at once, but Miss Calista’s hand was on his arm in a grasp none the less firm because of its gentleness, and there was a warning gleam in her grey eyes.

“It won’t mend matters trying to get clear of me, Chester. I know it was you and I want an answer–a truthful one, mind you–to my question. I am your friend, and I am not going to harm you if you tell me the truth.”

Her clear and incisive gaze met and held irresistibly the boy’s wavering one. The sullen obstinacy of his face relaxed.

“Well,” he muttered finally, “I was just desperate, that’s why. I’ve never done anything real bad in my life before, but people have always been down on me. I’m blamed for everything, and nobody wants anything to do with me. I’m willing to work, but I can’t get a thing to do. I’m in rags and I haven’t a cent, and winter’s coming on. I heard you telling Mrs. Galloway yesterday about the money. I was behind the fir hedge and you didn’t see me. I went away and planned it all out. I’d get in some way–and I meant to use the money to get away out west as far from here as I could, and begin life there, where nobody knew me, and where I’d have some sort of a chance. I’ve never had any here. You can put me in jail now, if you like–they’ll feed and clothe me there, anyhow, and I’ll be on a level with the rest.”

The boy had blurted it all out sullenly and half-chokingly. A world of rebellion and protest against the fate that had always dragged him down was couched in his voice.

Miss Calista drew Dapple to a standstill before her gate.

“I’m not going to send you to jail, Chester. I believe you’ve told me the truth. Yesterday you wanted me to give you Caleb’s place and I refused. Well, I offer it to you now. If you’ll come, I’ll hire you, and give you as good wages as I gave him.”

Ches Maybin looked incredulous.

“Miss Calista, you can’t mean it.”

“I do mean it, every word. You say you have never had a chance. Well, I am going to give you one–a chance to get on the right road and make a man of yourself. Nobody shall ever know about last night’s doings from me, and I’ll make it my business to forget them if you deserve it. What do you say?”

Ches lifted his head and looked her squarely in the face.

“I’ll come,” he said huskily. “It ain’t no use to try and thank you, Miss Calista. But I’ll live my thanks.”

And he did. The good people of Cooperstown held up their hands in horror when they heard that Miss Calista had hired Ches Maybin, and prophesied that the deluded woman would live to repent her rash step. But not all prophecies come true. Miss Calista smiled serenely and kept on her own misguided way. And Ches Maybin proved so efficient and steady that the arrangement was continued, and in due time people outlived their old suspicions and came to regard him as a thoroughly smart and trustworthy young man.

“Miss Calista has made a man of Ches Maybin,” said the oracles. “He ought to be very grateful to her.”

And he was. But only he and Miss Calista and the peppermint bottle ever knew the precise extent of his gratitude, and they never told.