There was a small pile of letters on the centre table, quite within John's reach; he began tearing open the envelopes in mechanical fashion, throwing them untidily upon the floor. As each one fell, Jack slid down and picked it up, climbing back to his father's knee. One was a wedding announcement; one was a plumber's bill; at the third, John paused, read, looked up bewildered, and read again. 'Why, Emily!' he exploded, boyishly. 'This can't be. Read that, will you, and tell me if I have lost my mind.' Emily put down the roses, and read the letter slowly, wonderingly, smiling even as her brother had smiled. 'Not Uncle John! And we were always so afraid of him!' 'Twenty thousand dollars!' murmured John. Open-mouthed silence waited upon them, until Cousin Austin broke the spell with,-- 'I say, would you mind if I looked over your shoulder?' And John flung him the letter with a little whoop of joy. 'Is this plain living, or is this a fairy story?' he demanded quizzically. 'I never thought of myself as a dark-eyed hero with a fortune dropping into my hands just in the nick of time! A title ought to go with it.' The vibrant energy of the man was back again; the dry humor which, in sunny seasons, quivered about his mouth, was once more there; the mocking incredulity of his words belied the growing look of peace and security in his face. The years seemed slipping from him, bringing him a mellow boyhood. 'Twenty thousand dollars isn't exactly a fortune, John.' 'It will buy the place twice over,' exulted the man, 'and we shan't have to start for the West in a prairie schooner right away!' 'Shan't we, papa?' asked little Jack, in hungry disappointment. But the child's shrill voice had little chance where everybody was speaking at once. Aunt Mary's 'Well, I hope you hang on to this, and not be foolish again,' and Cousin Austin's 'You deserve it, John,' and Uncle Howard's 'Well, I _am_ glad. Shake!' and several other congratulatory remarks all came at once. 'The poor old fellow; the poor old fellow,' said John to himself softly, rubbing his hands. 'I suppose he died out in Oklahoma all alone. How he happened to will this to me, I give up; he didn't like me very well.' The very atmosphere of the room had changed; once more a feeling of quiet pleasure pervaded it. The full sense of home, peace, security came back, with a suggestion of a kettle singing on the hearth, though there was no kettle nearer than the kitchen. 'But there's Frank--' It must have been Alice who suggested this, and a something disturbing, questioning, crept into the air. 'Frank!' said John Wareham suddenly. 'Why, I'd forgotten all about Frank! We haven't heard of him for more than fifteen years or so, have we?' 'More than that,' answered Emily. 'He was in Mexico, the last we knew.' 'He may be living,' suggested John. 'Mexico is always in such a state--I suppose the mails can't be trusted.' 'We ought to find out,' said Alice.