ld obtain an idea of the appearance of the room.
The ceiling was low, and the furniture scanty. A couple of chairs, a
small table, of which the paint was worn off in spots, and a bed in
the corner, were the complete outfit of Mr. Brown's home. He set the
candle on the table, and remarked apologetically: "I don't live in
much style, as you see. The fact is, I am at present in straitened
circumstances. When my uncle dies I shall inherit a fortune. Then,
when you come to see me, I will entertain you handsomely."

"Is your uncle rich?" asked Sam.

"I should say he was. He's a millionnaire."

"Why don't he do something for you now?"

Mr. Clarence Brown shrugged his shoulders.

"He's a very peculiar man--wants to keep every cent as long as he
lives. When he's dead it's got to go to his heirs. That's why he lives
in a palatial mansion on Madison Avenue, while I, his nephew, occupy a
shabby apartment like this."

Sam looked about him, and mentally admitted the justice of the term.
It was a shabby apartment, without question. Still, he was to lodge
there gratis, and it was not for him to complain.

"By the way," said Mr. Brown, casually, after exploring his pockets
apparently without success, "you haven't got a quarter, have you?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"All right; I'll borrow it till to-morrow, if you don't mind."

"Certainly," said Sam, handing over the sum desired.

"I'll go out and get some whiskey. My system requires it. You won't
mind being left alone for five minutes."

"Oh, no."

"Very good. I won't stay long."

Mr. Brown went out, and our hero sat down on the bed to wait for him.

"So this is my first night in the city," he thought. "I expected they
had better houses. This room isn't half so nice as I had at the
deacon's. But then I haven't got to hoe potatoes. I guess I'll like it
when I get used to it. There isn't anybody to order me round here."

Presently Mr. Brown came back. He had a bottle partially full of
whiskey with him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said. "Were you lonely?"

"Oh, no."

"I've got a couple of glasses here somewhere. Oh, here they are. Now
we'll see how it tastes."

"Not much for me," said Sam. "I don't think I'll like it."

"It'll be good for your stomach. However, I won't give you much."

He poured out a little in one tumbler for Sam and a considerably
larger amount for himself.

"Your health," he said, nodding.

"Thank you," said Sam,

Sam tasted the whiskey,