searching face for a second, then
answered, "Yes, if you can be contented." This was hardly such an
answer as Noll craved, yet it made his heart lighter. Perhaps it was
only Uncle Richard's way, he thought, which made it seem as though he
was not welcome. The old black housekeeper, he remembered, had warned
him not to mind it. With this thought, his heart grew somewhat more
cheerful, and he began to take a brighter view of things. He noted the
tall cases of books and the open organ, and unconsciously these
evidences of taste and refinement made the thought of dwelling in the
stone house more acceptable. If Uncle Richard would only care for him,
he thought, all the rest would not matter.

Trafford let go his hand, saying, "Go and get your supper, Noll; Hagar
will show you. Then, if you like, you can come back."

The boy took two or three steps toward obeying, then, as if
remembering some duty unperformed, turned and came back.

"I had forgotten the letter,--papa's letter,--Uncle Richard," he said,
drawing the missive from his pocket. "Would you like it now?"

Trafford extended his hand without a word. Noll placed the precious
letter therein, and walked away, looking back at the door to see that
his uncle had broken the seal. Not till the boy's footsteps had died
away did the uncle look upon the hurriedly-traced lines which the note
contained. The letters were feebly made, hinting of the weakness of
the hand which traced them. This was what he found:--

"MY DEAR DICK,--I write this to you from my dying-bed, not knowing
that it will ever reach you, or that you are even upon the face of the
earth. If ever you _do_ return,--if ever you receive this, be kind to
my poor Noll for my sake. Make him your own,--he'll love you,--and
make him such a man, before God, as you know I would have him.

"If he has disappeared, look him up, search for him, and cherish the
boy as my precious legacy. And, dear Dick, look well to yourself. A
man needs much when he lies where I am lying. We ought to have been
more to each other these past years, not living with a great gulf, as
it were, atween us. This and the thought of my boy is all that weighs
upon me now.

"And, dear Dick, till we meet again, farewell, farewell. O. TRAFFORD."

A sudden mist came across the reader's eyes, a sudden throb to his
heart. Brother Noll! the blithe, warm-hearted, once precious brother!
he who had astonished all his friends by studying for