The thought led Squire Marlowe to look around him. What he saw almost paralyzed him with surprise. There--at a neighboring table--sat Uncle Jacob, enjoying a luxurious dinner, the cost of which the squire, with the bill of fare before him, estimated must come to a high figure. "Can that be Uncle Jacob?" Albert Marlowe asked himself in amazement. "How on earth can a clerk on twelve dollars a week salary afford to dine at a restaurant like this?" As he had not yet given his order, he moved over to the table occupied by Uncle Jacob, and took a seat opposite him. "Albert Marlowe!" exclaimed the old man, recognizing him with surprise. "Yes, Uncle Jacob, it is I. But what on earth brings you here?" "I should think it was pretty evident," said Jacob Marlowe with a smile, "I came in for my dinner." "Yes, but do you usually come here?" "Not always--perhaps half the time. I make my heartiest meal of the day at this time--unlike most New Yorkers--and like it to be a good one." "Of course, but--how can you afford to eat here? Didn't you say that your salary was twelve dollars a week?" "I think I said so." "You are spending at that rate for your dinners alone. I don't understand how you can do it." "I am an old man, Albert. I can't live many years, and I think it sensible to get as much comfort out of life as possible for my few remaining years." "Still----" "I had a little money, you know, five hundred dollars, and I have managed to turn it to good account, so that I don't feel quite so cramped as when I was at Lakeville." "The old man's been speculating!" thought Albert Marlowe, "and he has had a stroke of luck; but he's a fool to think he can live like a banker on the strength of that. Very likely his next venture will sweep away his small amount of capital. Well, if he comes to grief, he needn't apply to me. Henceforth I wash my hands of him and his affairs altogether." "Of course it's your own lookout," he said, "but to me you seem recklessly extravagant." "Because I come in here? Well, perhaps so. When I find I can't afford it, I'll go to a cheaper place. Have you seen Mary Barton lately?" "Yes; she is well. By the way, what have you done with her boy?" "He is traveling." "So I heard. It seems to me a very foolish proceeding. Who is paying his expenses?" "Himself." "Is he working, then?" asked the squire in surprise. "Yes; he is a member of the 'Streets of Gotham' company, and is earning his living as an actor." "What does he know about acting?" asked the squire in amazement. "It appears that he is giving satisfaction. He sent me a paper containing a highly commendatory notice of his first appearance." "It won't last," said Albert Marlowe, his wish being father to the thought. When he returned to Lakeville that evening, he carried with him two pieces of news--first, that Uncle Jacob was living in luxury, and secondly, that Bert Barton was on the stage.