"Yes," answered the old man, smiling calmly; "I have the honor to be related to you, young gentleman." "Does father know you are here?" "No; I am going to call upon him." Percy hardly knew what to think. He had heard his father speak of "Uncle Jacob" and indulge in the hope that he had accumulated a fortune in California. His shabby attire did not suggest wealth, certainly, but Percy was wise enough to know that appearances are not always to be relied upon. If this old man were wealthy, he would be worth propitiating. At any rate, till he knew to the contrary he had better be polite. "Will you ride to the house with me, sir?" he asked, considerably to Bert's surprise. "No, thank you. There might be another upset. Jump into the buggy, and I'll walk along after you." Percy was relieved by this decision, for he had no wish to be seen with such a companion. "All right, sir," he said. "I'll see you at the house." Without a word of acknowledgment to Bert, Percy sprang into the buggy and drove rapidly away. "Shall I go with you, Uncle Jacob?" asked Bert. "No, thank you. I can find the way. Tell your mother that I will call on her very soon." CHAPTER II. UNCLE JACOB'S RECEPTION. Percy found his father at home, and quickly acquainted him with the arrival in town of Uncle Jacob. His news was received with interest by Squire Marlowe. "Why didn't you invite him to ride home with you?" asked the squire. "I did; but he preferred to walk." "What does he look like?" "Like an old tramp," answered Percy. Squire Marlowe was taken aback; for, without having received any definite intelligence from the long absent relative, he had somehow persuaded himself that Uncle Jacob had accumulated a fortune at the mines. "Then he is shabbily dressed?" said the squire, inquiringly. "I should say so. I say, father, I thought he was rich. You always said so." "And I still think so." "Then why don't he dress better?" "He is rather eccentric, Percy; and these California miners don't care much for dress as a rule. I shouldn't wonder if he were worth half a million. You'd better treat him with attention, for we are his natural heirs, and there's no telling what may happen." "Enough said, father. I don't care how he dresses if he's got the cash." "I must go and speak to your mother, or she will treat him coldly. You know how particular she is." Squire Marlowe managed to drop a hint to his wife, who was as worldly wise as himself, and saw the advantage of being attentive to a wealthy relative. By this time Uncle Jacob had reached the door. Squire Marlowe himself answered the bell, as a mark of special attention, and gazed with curiosity at the old man. Jacob Marlowe, though coarsely clad, was scrupulously neat and clean, and there was a pleasant smile on his bronzed face as he recognized his nephew. "I believe you are Uncle Jacob," said the squire, affably.