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

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      "I don't think he looks so very healthy," added the squire.

      "He has a good color."

      "His father was the picture of health till within a few weeks of his death."

      "What did he die of?"

      "Apoplexy."

      "To be sure. The old man looks as if he might go off that way."

      "In that case we should only need to be troubled with him a couple of years, and for that we should be richly repaid."

      "They will seem like two eternities," groaned the lady, "and the chief burden will come on me."

      "You shall be repaid, my dear! Only treat him well!"

      "Will you give me half what money he leaves to us?"

      "Say one-third, Julia. That will repay you richly for all your trouble."

      "Very well! Let it be a third. But, Mr. Marlowe, don't let there be any mistake! I depend upon you to find 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 used to plain livin'. It isn't often I sit down to a meal like this. Do you know, there's nothing suits me better than a dinner of corned beef and cabbage."

      "How vulgar the old man is!" thought Mrs. Marlowe. "He may have money, but his tastes are very common."

      "We never have corned beef and cabbage here," she said, with a slight shudder.

      "Very likely Bert Barton's mother has it very often," suggested Percy.

      "My dear," said the squire, urbanely, "if Uncle Jacob really enjoys those dishes so much, you might provide them for his special use."

      "I will think of it," replied Mrs. Marlowe, shortly.

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