Five Hundred Dollars | Page 4

out as soon as possible how much
money the old man has."
"Trust to me, Julia. I am just as anxious to know as you are."
In twenty minutes Uncle Jacob came down stairs. He had done what he
could to improve his appearance, or "slick himself up," as he expressed
it, and wore a blue coat and vest, each provided with brass buttons. But
from close packing in his valise both were creased up in such a manner
that Squire Marlowe and his wife shuddered, and Percy's face wore an
amused and supercilious smile.
"I declare I feel better to be dressed up," said the old man. "How long
do you think I've had this coat and vest, Albert?"
"I really couldn't guess."
"I had it made for me ten years ago in Sacramento. It looks pretty well,
but then I've only worn it for best."
Percy had to stuff his handkerchief in his mouth to repress a laugh.
Uncle Jacob regarded him with a benevolent smile, and seemed himself
to be amused about something.
"Now, Uncle Jacob, we'll sit down to dinner. You must be hungry."
"Well, I have got a fairish appetite. What a nice eatin' room you've got,
Albert. I ain't used to such style."
"I presume not," said Mrs. Marlowe, dryly.
CHAPTER III.
A VISIT TO THE FACTORY.
During dinner the old man chatted away in the frankest manner, but not

a word did he let drop as to his worldly circumstances. He appeared to
enjoy his dinner, and showed himself entirely at his ease.
"I'm glad to see you so well fixed, Albert," he said. "You've got a fine
home."
"It will do very well," returned the squire, modestly.
"I suppose he never was in such a good house before," thought Mrs.
Marlowe.
"By the way, just before I fell in with you here," went on Jacob, "I ran
across Mary's boy."
"Herbert Barton?" suggested the squire, with a slight frown.
"Yes; he said that was his name."
"They live in the village," said his nephew, shortly.
"They're poor, ain't they?"
"Yes; Barton was not a forehanded man. He didn't know how to
accumulate money."
"I suppose he left very little to his widow."
"Very little. However, I have given the boy a place in my factory, and I
believe his mother earns a trifle by covering base-balls. They don't
want for anything--that is, anything in reason.
"Bert Barton seems a likely boy."
"Oh, he's as good as the average of boys in his position."
"I suppose he and Percy are quite intimate, being cousins."
"Indeed we are not!" returned Percy, tossing his head. "His position is
very different from mine."

Uncle Jacob surveyed Percy in innocent wonder.
"Still, he's kin to you," he observed.
"That doesn't always count," said Percy. "He has his friends, and I have
mine. I don't believe in mixing classes."
"I expect things have changed since I was a boy," said Uncle Jacob,
mildly. "Then, all the boys were friendly and sociable, no matter
whether they were rich or poor."
"I agree with Percy," broke in Mrs. Marlowe, stiffly. "His position in
life will be very different from that of the boy you refer to. Any early
intimacy, even if we encouraged it, could not well be kept up in
after-life."
"Perhaps you are right," said the old man. "I've been away so long at
the mines that I haven't kept up with the age or the fashions."
Percy smiled, as his glance rested on his uncle's creased suit, and he felt
quite ready to agree with what he said.
"I was thinkin' how pleasant it would be if you would invite Mary and
her boy to tea--we are all related, you know. We could talk over old
times and scenes, and have a real social time."
Mrs. Marlowe seemed horror-struck at the suggestion.
"I don't think it would be convenient," she said, coldly.
"It would be better for you to see Mrs. Barton at her own house," put in
the squire, hastily.
"Well, perhaps it would."
"By the way, Uncle Jacob, I hope your experiences of California are
pleasant," insinuated Squire Marlowe.
"They're mixed, Albert. I've had my ups and downs."

"I have heard of large fortunes being made there," pursued the squire.
"I suppose there's some truth in what we hear?"
"To be sure! Why, ten years from the time I went to the mines I had a
hundred thousand dollars deposited to my credit in a Sacramento
bank."
Squire Marlowe's eyes sparkled with pleasure. It was just what he had
been hoping to find out. So Uncle Jacob was rich, after all! The squire's
manner became even more gracious, and he pressed upon his relative
another plate of ice cream.
"No, thank you, Albert," said the old man. "I'm