“There is one thing you don’t say anything about--how much proparty your pa left. I hope it is a good round sum, and I will take good care of it for you. Ennybody round here will tell you that John Fox is a good man of business, and about as sharp as most people. Mrs. Fox will be glad to see you, and my boy, Joel, will be glad to have someone to keep him company. He is about sixteen years old. You don’t say how old you are, but from your letter I surmise that you are as much as that. You will find a happy united famerly, consistin’ of me and my wife, Joel and his sister, Sally. Sally is fourteen, just two years younger than Joel. We live in a comfortable way, but we don’t gorge ourselves on rich, unhelthy food. No more at present. Yours to command, “JOHN FOX.” Harry smiled more than once as he read this letter. “Your relative isn’t strong on spelling,” remarked Mr. Howard, as he laid the letter on the table. “No, sir; but he appears to be strong on economy. It is a comfort to know that I shall not be injured by ‘rich, unhelthy food.’” “When do you mean to start for Colebrook?” asked Mr. Howard. “To-morrow morning. I have been looking at a railroad guide, and I find it will bring me to Colebrook in time for supper.” “We should be glad to have you stay with us as long as possible, Harry.” “Thank you, Mr. Howard, I don’t doubt that, but the struggle of life is before me, and I may as well enter upon it at once.” At four o’clock in the afternoon the conductor of the train on which Harry was a passenger called out Bolton. Harry snatched up his carpetbag, and made his way to the door, for this was the place where he was to take the stage for Colebrook. Two other passengers got out at the same time. One was an elderly man, and the other a young man of twenty-five. They appeared to be father and son, and, as Harry learned afterward they were engaged in farming. “Any passengers for Colebrook?” inquired the driver of the old-fashioned Concord stage, which was drawn up beside the platform. “There’s Obed and me,” said the old farmer. “May I ride on the seat with you?” asked Harry of the driver. “Sartain. Where are you going?” “To Colebrook.” “Then this is your team.” Harry climbed up with a boy’s activity, and sat down on the broad seat, congratulating himself that he would have a chance to see the country, and breathe better air than those confined inside. Soon the driver sat down on the box beside him, and started the horses. “You’re a stranger, ain’t you?” he remarked, with an inquisitive glance at his young traveling companion. “Yes; I’ve never been here before.” “Are you going to the tavern?” “No; I’m going to the house of Mr. John Fox. Do you know him?” “I reckon everybody round here knows John Fox.” “I don’t know him. He is to be my guardian.” “Sho! You’ll have a queer guardeen.” “Why queer?” “The fact is, old John’ll cheat you out of your eye teeth ef he gets a chance. He’s about the sharpest man round.”