"And thy dear mother?" asked the strange gentleman. "She is in the house," said Oliver; and then he called, "Mother! mother!" And his mother, stopping the clattering with the pots and pans, came to the door, and then, seeing a strange gentleman, stood quite still and stared. "Mother," said Oliver, "here is a man who says he is my uncle." "Your what?" said his mother. "My uncle." "Your uncle?" "His uncle," said the strange gentleman. "I never knew the child had one," said Oliver's mother. "What," said the strange gentleman. "Did Jean Marie never speak of me--his brother Henri? Ah me! Well, perhaps he was ashamed of me, for I was the black-sheep of the flock. I have been to the Americas ever since I ran away from home two-and-thirty years ago, and now I have come back rich--very rich." [Illustration: "'I AM THY UNCLE,' SAID THE STRANGE GENTLEMAN."] At the word "rich," Oliver's mother started as if she had been stung. "Oliver," she cried, "why do you stand gaping there like a stupid sot? You lazy vagabond, bring your uncle into the house! And you, Monsieur Brother, come in, come in!" And she almost dragged the strange gentleman through the door-way. "Brush your uncle a chair, Oliver, brush your uncle a chair! There, Monsieur Brother, that is very good. Now will you not sit down and rest after having come all the way from the Americas?" "My servant--" began the strange gentleman. "We have room for him also; we have room for him as well," said Oliver's mother. "Come, Monsieur Servant. Oliver, dust him a chair also." "Very good," said the strange gentleman; "but it is not that. I had thought that a little supper--" "He shall have his supper," said Oliver's mother. "There is enough for him and for all the rest of us; but no thanks to that son of mine for that. As lazy a vagabond as ever you saw, Monsieur Brother. He, too, might have been a tailor, as was his father; but no, he will not work. He would rather beg or starve than work." "That is of no importance," said the strange gentleman. "Oliver will have no need to work; we shall make a gentleman of Oliver. But I was about to say that I have ordered a little supper at the inn, and my servant will go and bring it. Go, Gaspard, and see that all is done well. In the mean time let us talk over family matters among ourselves. See, here am I, come, as I said, from the Americas, and without a soul belonging to me but my servant Gaspard. Let us, then, all live together--you, my sister, and Oliver and me and Gaspard. To-night I will sleep here in your house. To-morrow Oliver and I shall go to Paris and choose another lodging, for this is a poor place for the sister and the nephew of a rich American to live." Oliver's mother looked around her. "Yes," said she, "that is true. It is a poor place, a very poor place." * * * * * "Here is Gaspard with the little supper," said Oliver's new uncle.