oon returned with him.

When he entered the room, Pet rose, and walked toward him, half
hesitating. Her face was very pale, and her lips quivered. "My dear
uncle!" she said, and turned her sweet face up to be kissed.

Marcus, to whom the probable character of his reception had been a
distressing subject of conjecture, was delighted at this frank,
affectionate greeting, and stooped and imprinted an uncle's kiss on the
young girl's brow. It was a pleasant way out of an embarrassment.

The conflicting emotions of the hour were too much for Pet; and she
tottered to Mrs. Crull's arms, and wept for a few moments.

"You are her uncle, Mr. Wilkeson," said Mrs. Crull, extending her red
right hand, while, with her left, she smoothed Pet's thick brown hair,
"but I am her mother." Mrs. Crull seized upon this early opportunity to
give notice that her rights as adopted parent were not to be abridged.

"And happy she is in having such a mother, my dear Mrs. Crull," said
Marcus.

A quick ring, as of a familiar visitor, was heard at the door. The
servant ushered in Bog. He was much changed since his last presentation
to the reader. Six months of worldly polish, of private tutoring, and of
a strong desire to appear well in the eyes of one he loved, had turned
the clumsy boy into the quiet but stylish young gentleman. He had given
up the bill-posting business, not because he was sick of it, or ashamed
of it, but because old Van Quintem loved his adopted son so well, that
he could not spare him from his side. Bog passed the greater portion of
every day with him, rambling through the streets, or riding to the
suburbs in the old family carriage, or reading the dear old books to
him. Bog read well now, and had learned to love those repositories of
wit and wisdom with almost as keen a relish as the venerable
white-headed listener. This was another bond of affection between the
old gentleman and himself.

At Bog's entrance. Pet looked up, and showed the sparkling tears in her
eyes. A deep shade of anxiety passed over the young man's face, and he
looked around for an explanation.

The prompt Overtop was ready to give it; and, in a few moments, Bog was
enlightened with the great discovery.

"And Pet has been crying a little because she is so happy--that's all,"
added Mrs. Crull. "Sit down here, Bog."

Mrs. Crull made room for him on the other end of the sofa where she was
sitting--her left hand still smoothing the soft brown hair of he