, employing a
hundred hands."

"Who is the owner?"

"Squire Marlowe."

"Ha!" ejaculated the old man, evidently interested. "Albert Marlowe,
isn't it?"

"Yes, sir; do you know him?"

"I haven't met him for twenty years, but we are acquainted. I suppose he
is prosperous."

"He is considered a rich man, sir. He is a relation of mine."

"Indeed! What then is your name?" asked the old man, eagerly.

"Herbert Barton--most people call me Bert Barton."

Bert was surprised at the keen scrutiny which he received from the
traveller.

"Was your mother Mary Marlowe?" the latter asked.

"Yes, sir," returned Bert. "Did you know her, too?"

"I ought to; she is my niece, as the man you call Squire Marlowe is my
nephew."

"Then you must be Uncle Jacob, who has lived so many years in
California?" said Bert, excitedly.

"The same."

"Mother will be very glad to see you," added Bert, cordially.

"Thank you, my boy. Your kind welcome does me good. I hope your mother
is well and happy."

"She is a widow," answered Bert soberly.

"When did your father die?"

"Two years ago."

"I hope he left your mother in comfortable circumstances."

Bert shook his head.

"He only left the small house we live in, and that is mortgaged for half
its value."

"Then how do you live?"

"Mother covers base-balls for a firm in the next town, and I am working
in the big shoe shop."

"Doesn't Squire Marlowe do anything for your mother?"

"He gave me a place in the shop--that is all."

"Yet he is rich," said the old man, thoughtfully.

"Yes, he lives in a fine house. You can see it down the street on the
other side that large one with a broad piazza. He keeps two horses and
two handsome carriages, and I am sure he must have plenty of money."

"I am glad to hear it. I have been a long time among strangers. It will
be pleasant to come to anchor at the house of a rich relation. Where
does your mother live?"

"In a small cottage at the other end of the street. Won't you come home
with me, Uncle Jacob? Mother will be glad to see you."

"I must call at Albert Marlowe's first. What family has he?"

"He has one boy about my own age."

"I suppose you are very intimate--being cousins."

Bert laughed.

"He wouldn't thank you for calling us cousins," he answered. "Percy
Marlowe is a boy who thinks a good deal of himself. He puts on no end of
airs."

"Like his father before him. Is he a smart boy?"

"Do you mean in his studies?"