the cablegram contained a single word. The writer paid the toll, and
went away.

"Now, what would you think of that?" murmured the operator, scratching
his head in perplexity. "Well, the company gets the money, so it's all
the same to me. Butterflies; and all the rest in French. Next time
it'll be bugs. All right; here goes!"




CHAPTER VII

A BIT OF ROMANTIC HISTORY

The house at the top of the hill had two names. It had once been
called The Watch Tower, for reasons but vaguely known by the present
generation of villagers. To-day it was generally styled The Pines.
Yet even this had fallen into disuse, save on the occupant's letter
paper. When any one asked where Rear Admiral Killigrew lived, he was
directed to "the big white house at the top o' the hill."

The Killigrews had not been born and bred there. Its builder had been
a friend of King George; that is, his sympathies had been with taxation
without representation. One day he sold the manor cheap. His reasons
were sufficient. It then became the property of a wealthy trader, who
died in it. This was in 1809. His heirs, living, and preferring to
live, in Philadelphia, put up a sign; and being of careful disposition,
kept the place in excellent repair.