Five Hundred Dollars; or, Jacob Marlowe's Secret. Alger Horatio Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ the honor to be related to you, young gentleman."

      "Does father know you are here?"

      "No; I am going to call upon him."

      Percy hardly knew what to think. He had heard his father speak of "Uncle Jacob" and indulge in the hope that he had accumulated a fortune in California. His shabby attire did not suggest wealth, certainly, but Percy was wise enough to know that appearances are not always to be relied upon. If this old man were wealthy, he would be worth propitiating. At any rate, till he knew to the contrary he had better be polite.

      "Will you ride to the house with me, sir?" he asked, considerably to Bert's surprise.

      "No, thank you. There might be another upset. Jump into the buggy, and I'll walk along after you."

      Percy was relieved by this decision, for he had no wish to be seen with such a companion.

      "All right, sir," he said. "I'll see you at the house."

      Without a word of acknowledgment to Bert, Percy sprang into the buggy and drove rapidly away.

      "Shall I go with you, Uncle Jacob?" asked Bert.

      "No, thank you. I can find the way. Tell your mother that I will call on her very soon."

      CHAPTER II.

      UNCLE JACOB'S RECEPTION

      Percy found his father at home, and quickly acquainted him with the arrival in town of Uncle Jacob. His news was received with interest by Squire Marlowe.

      "Why didn't you invite him to ride home with you?" asked the squire.

      "I did; but he preferred to walk."

      "What does he look like?"

      "Like an old tramp," answered Percy.

      Squire Marlowe was taken aback; for, without having received any definite intelligence from the long absent relative, he had somehow persuaded himself that Uncle Jacob had accumulated a fortune at the mines.

      "Then he is shabbily dressed?" said the squire, inquiringly.

      "I should say so. I say, father, I thought he was rich. You always said so."

      "And I still think so."

      "Then why don't he dress better?"

      "He is rather eccentric, Percy; and these California miners don't care much for dress as a rule. I shouldn't wonder if he were worth half a million. You'd better treat him with attention, for we are his natural heirs, and there's no telling what may happen."

      "Enough said, father. I don't care how he dresses if he's got the cash."

      "I must go and speak to your mother, or she will treat him coldly. You know how particular she is."

      Squire Marlowe managed to drop a hint to his wife, who was as worldly wise as himself, and saw the advantage of being attentive to a wealthy relative.

      By this time Uncle Jacob had reached the door.

      Squire Marlowe himself answered the bell, as a mark of special attention, and gazed with curiosity at the old man.

      Jacob Marlowe, though coarsely clad, was scrupulously neat and clean, and there was a pleasant smile on his bronzed face as he recognized his nephew.

      "I believe you are Uncle Jacob," said the squire, affably.

      "Yes, Albert, and I'm mighty glad to see a relation. It's twenty-five years since I have seen one that was kin to me."

      "Welcome to Lakeville, Uncle Jacob. I am glad to see you. Percy told me he met you on the road: Why didn't you ride up with him?"

      "It wasn't worth gettin' in to ride a quarter of a mile. I am used to exercise in California."

      "To be sure. Come into the house, and lay your valise down anywhere. Here is my wife, Mrs. Marlowe. Julia, this is Uncle Jacob, of whom you have heard me speak so often."

      "I am glad to see you, Mr. Marlowe," said the lady, formally, just touching the old man's hand.

      "Where are you going to put Uncle Jacob, Julia?" asked the squire.

      "You may take him to the blue room," said Mrs. Marlowe, in a tone of hesitation.

      This blue room was the handsomest chamber in the house, and was assigned to those whom it was considered politic to honor.

      "Come right upstairs, Uncle Jacob. I'll show you your room myself," said Albert Marlowe.

      "I ain't used to such luxury, Albert," said the old man, as he gazed around the comfortably appointed apartment. "You ought to see my cabin at Murphy's diggings. I reckon your servant would turn up her nose at it."

      "I know you don't care much for style in California, uncle."

      "No, we don't, though we've got as handsome houses in 'Frisco as anywhere else. Why, Albert, this room is fine enough for a prince."

      "Then you can think yourself a prince," said the squire, genially. "Now, if you want to wash your face and hands, and arrange your toilet, you will have abundant time before dinner. Come down when you have finished."

      Albert Marlowe returned to his wife.

      "Mr. Marlowe," said she, "are you very sure that old man is rich?"

      "I have no doubt of it, Julia."

      "But what an old fright he is! Why, he looks dreadfully common, and his clothes are wretchedly shabby."

      "True, Julia; but you must remember miners are not very particular about their dress."

      "I should think not, if he is a fair specimen. It makes me shudder to think of his occupying the blue-room. The hall bedroom on the third floor would have been good enough for him."

      "Remember, my dear, he is in all probability very wealthy, and we are his heirs. I am not so well off as people imagine, and it will be a great thing for us to have a fortune of a quarter or half a million drop in by and by."

      "There's something in that, to be sure," the lady admitted. "But can't you induce him to wear better clothes?"

      "I will suggest it very soon. We mustn't be too precipitate, for fear he should take offense. You know these rich uncles expect to be treated with a good deal of consideration."

      "Do you think he will expect to live with us? I shall really give up if I have got to have such a looking old tramp as a permanent member of the family."

      "But, Julia, if he is really very rich, it is important for us to keep him strictly in view. You know there will be plenty of designing persons, who will be laying snares to entrap him, and get possession of his money."

      "How old is he? Is he likely to live long?"

      "I think he must be about sixty-five."

      "And he looks alarmingly healthy," said Mrs. Marlowe, with a sigh.

      "His father died at sixty-seven."

      Mrs. Marlowe brightened up. СКАЧАТЬ