ork there?"

"No, he is travelling."

"Travelling? What do you mean?"

"Uncle Jacob has sent him off on some mission. He is at Harrisburg, I
believe."

"That is very strange!" remarked the squire, arching his eyebrows. "What
possible mission can Jacob have for the boy?"

"He doesn't write particulars; but his expenses are paid."

"I don't see how Jacob Marlowe, with his paltry twelve dollars a week,
can make such arrangements."

"Nor I; but probably Uncle Jacob has interested his employer in Bert."

"It may be so, but I think it very unwise to send off a boy by himself.
What judgment has he, or what can he do?"

"I don't very well know. He seems to enjoy the trip."

"Of course; but it will spoil him for solid work. He had better have
stayed at home."

"What encouragement was there for him to stay in Lakeville? If you had
not discharged him, he would be here now. If you will take him back into
the factory, I will write him to that effect, and perhaps it will induce
him to return."

"Ahem! I will think of it. Does he send you any money?"

"Not yet."

"Then how do you live?"

"Without calling upon you, Albert," said Mrs. Barton, with a little
tinge of bitterness. "I hardly think you feel enough interest in me to
care how I live."

Albert Marlowe was somewhat embarrassed, and regretted that he had asked
the question. Mrs. Barton might take it into her head that he was
willing to contribute to her support, and this was far from being the
case.

"Women look at things from a peculiar point of view," he said. "Of
course I wish you well, and for that reason regret that you are so
injudicious in your management of Bert."

"I have no fear but that Bert will turn out well," rejoined Mrs. Barton
proudly.

"Ahem! I hope so, though that twenty-dollar affair led me to fear that
he had inherited loose ideas about honesty."

"What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. Barton, her cheeks aflame with
indignation.

"I shouldn't think you would need to ask. Of course we both know why Mr.
Barton is an exile, unable to return home."

"Yes, Albert Marlowe, we do know! He is an innocent man, suffering for
the crime of another."

"That is what he says, is it?" sneered the squire. "That might be
expected."

"Because it is true; but, Albert Marlowe, I have good hopes that his
innocence may be vindicated, and the real criminal brought to light."

Her intense gaze made the squire uncomfortable. "Did she mean anything?"
he as