"Yes; I have not told you. He has returned from California, and is now in New York." "Have you seen him?" "Yes; he spent a week at our house." Mrs. Barton went on to give the particulars of Uncle Jacob's visit. "He is a poor man," she concluded. "As I understand, he brought home but five hundred dollars, but he is lucky enough to be employed in an office in New York at a salary of twelve dollars a week." "If I were earning that, and could hold up my head an honest man, without a stain--an undeserved stain--upon my name, I should be happy." "Can you tell me Uncle Jacob's address?" he asked, after a pause. "I don't think I shall venture to call upon him, for I am subject to arrest on the old charge, as you know, and the New York detectives are sharp, but I might write to him and ask his advice. But stay! he thinks me dead, does he not?" "Yes." "And Bert--is that what you still call him?--he still thinks that he has no father living?" "You wished it so, Simeon." "Yes; but the time may come when the secret can be revealed to him. I may disclose myself to Uncle Jacob. I don't remember him very well, but----" "He is the best and kindest of men. I wish, he could have found employment here." "Did he visit Albert?" "Yes; he remained at his house one night." "Was he well received?" "At first; for, coming from California, Albert supposed him rich. When he found he had but five hundred dollars, he lost no time in turning him out of the house." "Poor Uncle Jacob! It must have hurt the old man's feelings." "I feared it would, but he only seemed amused--not at all offended." "He has seen so much of the world that he probably expected it. The old man seemed in good spirits, then?" "Yes; he declared that he was well able to earn his own living still, though he is sixty-five, and was as gay and cheerful as a young man. He insisted on paying his board while he was with us." "There is nothing mean about Uncle Jacob." "No; and it is a mystery to me why such men as he, who would make so good use of riches, should almost always be poor." "And men like Albert Marlowe are rich." "Yes." "There are a good many things that are difficult to make out. Where are you going to stay to-night, Simeon?" she asked, after a pause. "I--don't know." "I wish I could invite you to the house where you have the best right to be." "I wish so, too." "Bert doesn't know that you are alive. Perhaps I might introduce you as an old friend of his father." "If you think it would do. He would not speak of your having a visitor?" "Not if I told him not to do so." "You have tempted me strongly, Mary. I should like to see our boy, to see with my own eyes how he is looking at fifteen. And it would be a comfort to rest once more beneath the same roof as the wife from whom I have been so long separated." "I think we can risk it, Simeon. I must introduce you under another name." "Call me Robinson. That is the name I have borne for some years past."