"My name is Ben Carew, at your service, Sister Carew. Howdy--howdy do, all of you? These your children? Is your son sick much?" replied the stranger, in a loud, familiar tone. "Impertinent!" muttered the lady, angrily. She rose to her feet. "See here, old man, you have made a mistake coming here, certainly. I don't know you, and have no business with you, so clear out at once!" The old man stood his ground, undismayed by the virago. "Not so fast, ma'am, not so fast," he said, soothingly, with a wave of his hand. "Now, ain't you Vincent Carew's widow?" "Yes," she snapped. "And I'm Vincent Carew's brother Ben." Every eye in the room turned on him in amazement, and Mrs. Carew exclaimed: "My husband did not have a brother at all!" "No brother that he owned, maybe, but an older brother, for all that, living down on the farm, poor and humble, so maybe his proud, ambitious brother didn't own up to his folks about Ben; but all the same he was good to him, and many's the year Vince sent money down to the old farm to help out when the crops failed and prices fell on live stock--many's the day, God rest his soul!" Brother Ben drew his hand across his eyes and the sound of suppressed sobs filled the room. "My husband is dead, if he was any relation to you; so we don't want you here," Mrs. Carew said to him, brutally. He started back as if she had struck him, and said, sadly: "Yes, I heard that he was dead, and I wished it had been me instead. I ain't much 'count in the world, no-how; but the neighbors said: 'Ben, you ought to go up to Boston and get your share of your brother's property.' Vince left me something, I know. He always said he would without my ever asking." "He left you nothing. I don't believe in you, anyway. You're an impostor, I'm sure. So get out of this at once!" insisted Mrs. Carew. But he did not stir. "I want to stay and visit you, sister-in-law, and see the city sights," he pleaded. "Go; I won't have you here! You are a disgrace to the house!" she said, angrily, but still inwardly appalled, for, in spite of his rough looks and country manners, he was wonderfully like the dead brother he claimed. In voice, features, and gesture he recalled the dead. He stood staring in pained amazement at the inhospitable woman, when suddenly a little hand stole into his, and a tearful voice murmured: "Uncle Ben, I believe in you and I love you, for you are so like my dear, dead papa that it makes my heart glad just to see and hear you." He looked down into the face of a lovely, dark-eyed girl, whose lips were trembling with a hushed sob, and exclaimed: "Why, this is Vince's girl. I know by the favor! God bless you, honey! give your old uncle a hug;" and he put his honest arms around her, and pressed the curly golden head against his breast. "Did you ever see such impudence, mamma? Kathleen is utterly shameless!" cried Alpine, in a high key of disdain.