It was a small incident, but he felt, from the young lady's manner of addressing him, that she looked upon him as her equal socially, and this afforded him not a little pleasure. He wondered how he could have been content to drift about the streets so long, clothed in rags. New hopes and a new ambition had been awakened within him, and he felt that a new life lay before him, much better worth living than the old life. These thoughts occupied him as he rode up Broadway. At length he left the omnibus, and took the shortest route to his sister's house. When he ascended the steps, and rang the bell, he felt rather a queer sensation come over him. He remembered very well the last time he had ascended those same steps, carrying his cousin's valise. His heart beat quick with excitement, in the midst of which the door was opened by the servant. He had already decided to ask for his cousin, preferring to make himself known to him first. "Is Charles Marston in?" he inquired. "Yes, sir," said the servant. "Won't you come in?" She threw open the door of the parlor, and Ben, entering, seated himself in an arm-chair, holding his hat in his hand. "I wonder if she'd asked me in here if I'd come in my rags?" he asked himself, with a smile. The servant went upstairs, where she found Charles in his own room, writing a French exercise. "Master Charles," she said, "one of your school-mates is in the parlor. He wants to see you." "All right. I'll go right down." The mistake was quite a natural one, as boys who attended the same private school frequently called for Charles. Charles went downstairs, and entered the parlor. Ben rose as he entered. "How are you, Charlie?" said Ben, rising, and offering his hand. Charles looked in his face with a puzzled expression. It was not one of his school-mates, as he had supposed; but it must be some one that knew him intimately, or he would not have addressed him so familiarly. "I ought to know you," he said, apologetically; "but I can't think who it is." "Don't you remember your Cousin Ben, Charlie?" asked our hero. "Ben!" exclaimed Charles, in the greatest astonishment. He looked eagerly in our hero's face for a moment, then impulsively threw his arms around Ben's neck, and kissed him. "I am so glad to see you, Ben," he said. "Where have you been all the time?" "Then you didn't forget me, Charlie?" said Ben, returning the embrace. "No, Ben. I've thought of you many and many a time. We used to be such good friends, you know. We will be again,--will we not?" "I hope so, Charlie. That was one of my reasons for coming back." "How did you know I was here?" "I will tell you some time, Charlie; but not now. Is my sister at home?" "Yes. I will call her. She will be very much surprised. We all thought you--" "Dead, I suppose." "Yes; but I always hoped you would come back again." "Don't tell Mary who it is. See if she recognizes me."