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    THE THORN IN THE NEST

    BY
    MARTHA FINLEY,

    Author of "THE ELSIE BOOKS," "SIGNING THE CONTRACT," "WANTED
    A PEDIGREE," "THE MILDRED SERIES," ETC., ETC.


    "He puts a thorn in our nest to drive us to the wing, that we may
    not be grovellers forever."


    NEW YORK
    DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
    PUBLISHERS




    COPYRIGHT, 1886,
    BY
    DODD, MEAD & COMPANY.





TABLE OF CONTENTS


                        PAGE
    CHAPTER I.             7

    CHAPTER II.           14

    CHAPTER III.          24

    CHAPTER IV.           33

    CHAPTER V.            44

    CHAPTER VI.           54

    CHAPTER VII.          63

    CHAPTER VIII.         74

    CHAPTER IX.           84

    CHAPTER X.            91

    CHAPTER XI.          102

    CHAPTER XII.         114

    CHAPTER XIII.        123

    CHAPTER XIV.         136

    CHAPTER XV.          145

    CHAPTER XVI.         153

    CHAPTER XVII.        162

    CHAPTER XVIII.       173

    CHAPTER XIX.         176

    CHAPTER XX.          183

    CHAPTER XXI.         193

    CHAPTER XXII.        202

    CHAPTER XXIII.       206

    CHAPTER XXIV.        214

    CHAPTER XXV.         225

    CHAPTER XXVI.        235

    CHAPTER XXVII.       241

    CHAPTER XXVIII.      251

    CHAPTER XXIX.        262

    CHAPTER XXX.         272

    CHAPTER XXXI.        283

    CHAPTER XXXII.       288

    CHAPTER XXXIII.      296




THE THORN IN THE NEST.




CHAPTER I.

                        "A malady
    Preys on my heart, that medicine cannot reach."


Our story opens in spring of 1797, in a sequestered valley in Western
Pennsylvania. On a green hillside dotted here and there with stately
oaks and elms, and sloping toward the road, beyond which flowed the
clear waters of a mountain stream, stood a brick farm-house--large,
roomy, substantial; beautiful with climbing vines and flowering
shrubs. Orchard, meadow, wheat and corn fields stretched away on
either hand, shut in by dense forests and wooded hills; beyond and
above which, toward the right, towered the giant Alleghenies; their
summits, still white from the storms of the past winter, lying like a
bank of snowy clouds against the eastern horizon.

But night drew on apace, the light was fast fading even from the
mountain tops, and down in the valley it was already so dark that
only the outlines of objects close at hand were discernible as our
hero, Kenneth Clendenin, mounted upon Romeo, his gallant steed,
entered it from the west and slowly wended his way toward its one
solitary dwelling. The road was familiar to both man and horse, and
ere long they had reached the gate.

A <DW64> boy perched on the top of the fence, with his hands in his
pockets, whistling softly to himself in the dark, broke off suddenly
in the middle of his tune, sprang nimbly to the ground and took the
bridle, exclaiming, "Ki, Massa Doctah! t'o't dat you and ole Romeo
comin' up de road. Ole Aunt Vashti she tole me watch out hyar an' ax
you ef you's had yo' suppah, sah?"

"Yes, Zeb, tell her I have and shall want nothing more to-night,"
answered the traveller, alighting. "Rub Romeo down and give him a
good feed."

"Dat I will, Massa Doctah; I neber 'glects ole Romeo," returned the
lad, vaulting into the saddle and cantering off to the stable, while
the gentleman walked quickly up the path leading to the house.

Within a wood fire burned brightly in the wide chimney