"Certainly, if you prefer it," said the young man, opening his
pocket-book.

"What strange fortune," he thought, "can have brought these two
together? Surely there can be no relationship."

The next day he returned and completed his sketch, which was at once
placed in the hands of the publisher, eliciting his warm approval.

CHAPTER XVII. JACK OBTAINS INFORMATION.

JACK set out with that lightness of heart and keen sense of enjoyment
that seem natural to a young man of eighteen on his first journey.
Partly by cars, partly by boat, he traveled, till in a few hours he was
discharged, with hundreds of others, at the depot in Philadelphia.

Among the admonitions given to Jack on leaving home, one was prominently
in his mind, to beware of imposition, and to be as economical as
possible.

Accordingly he rejected all invitations to ride, and strode along, with
his carpet-bag in hand, though, sooth to say, he had very little idea
whether he was steering in the right direction for his uncle's shop.
By dint of diligent and persevering inquiry he found it at length, and,
walking in, announced himself to the worthy baker as his nephew Jack.

"What, are you Jack?" exclaimed Mr. Abel Crump, pausing in his labor;
"well, I never should have known you, that's a fact. Bless me, how
you've grown! Why, you're most as big as your father, ain't you?"

"Only half an inch shorter," returned Jack, complacently.

"And you're--let me see, how old are you?"

"Eighteen, that is, almost; I shall be in two months."

"Well, I'm glad to see you, Jack, though I hadn't the least idea of your
raining down so unexpectedly. How's your father and mother and Rachel,
and your adopted sister?"

"Father and mother are pretty well," answered Jack, "and so is Aunt
Rachel," he added, smiling; "though she ain't so cheerful as she might
be."

"Poor Rachel!" said Abel, smiling also, "all things look upside down
to her. I don't suppose she's wholly to blame for it. Folks differ
constitutionally. Some are always looking on the bright side of things,
and others can never see but one side, and that's the dark one."

"You've hit it, uncle," said Jack, laughing. "Aunt Rachel always looks
as if she was attending a funeral."

"So she is, my boy," said Abel Crump, gravely, "and a sad funeral it
is."

"I don't understand you, uncle."

"The funeral of her affections,--that's what I mean. Perhaps you mayn't
know that Rachel was, in early life, eng