ng his services he had made a real acquisition.

Bolton was absorbed in preparation for a case which had been assigned
to him, when a boy came to his desk with a card.

Bolton no sooner read the name, "Ernest Ray," than he became eager and
excited.

"Tell him to come in," he said.

Ernest, quiet and self-possessed, entered the office and approached
the lawyer's desk.

"Are you Mr. Bolton?" he asked

"Yes, and you--"

"I am Ernest Ray."

Benjamin Bolton looked keenly at the boy, admiring his handsome face
and manly bearing.

"I see your father's looks in you," he said.

"Then you knew my father?" said Ernest, eagerly.

"Yes. We were young men together."

"I am glad to meet you then."

"You come from California?"

"Yes."

"I judge from your appearance that you have not suffered from
poverty."

"I have been fortunate at Oreville. At Oak Forks I lived very humbly
with Peter Brant, an old servant of my father."

"Yes, I remember Peter. Is he alive still?"

"No, he died a little less than a year since. Till his death I thought
him my uncle, and knew no other relatives. Before he died he told me
who I was."

"How did he live?"

"On a small sum left by my father. When he died it was all exhausted
except a hundred dollars. I took that and went to California with a
man named Luke Robbins, who has proved my faithful friend."

"What were you doing in California? Were you working at the mines?"

"No. I was keeping a store where I sold miners supplies."

"Did it pay you well?"

"I was very well paid for a boy. When I left Oreville I was worth a
thousand dollars."

"That is well, but it is only a drop in the bucket compared with the
fortune you are entitled to."

"Now held by Mr. Stephen Ray?"

"Yes; he will be surprised to see you here in the East."

"He has seen me," said Ernest, quickly.

"What!" exclaimed the lawyer. "You have not called upon him?"

"No. I met him on the train and afterwards at a Buffalo hotel. My
cousin Clarence was with him."

"Did you have any conference with them?"

"I talked with Clarence, not with his father."

"Did you think the father knew you?"

"Yes, but he did not speak to me."

"He told me when I called upon him some time ago that you were
dead--that you had died in Georgia."

"What could have been his object?"

"He did not wish me to find you, for I had the proof that the estate
was rightfully yours."

"What led you to think I was alive?"

"I cro