"It's likely she didn't tell him. Of course she wouldn't own it up to you." "Do you live far away, Mr. Crane?" "I live in the town of Gladwin, most sixty miles from here. I'm fifty years old, but I was never so far away from home before. I shouldn't have come now, only I've been unlucky. My shop burned down last week, and there warn't no insurance on it. Thinks I, Melindy is rich, and now is just the time when I need help. Don't you think she ought to help me?" "Yes." "I'm her only brother, and there's only two of us anyway. I've got a wife and two children at home, and they'll be pinched if I don't get help somewhere. Many's the time I've helped Melindy and Abel." "Then you certainly have a claim upon Mrs. Lane." They turned into the yard, and Gerald was about ushering his new acquaintance into the house, when Abel appeared at the door. "Who are you bringing into the house, Gerald?" demanded Abel, sharply. "Don't you know me, Abe?" asked Alonzo Crane, with an ingratiating smile. "How should I?" asked Abel; but his face changed, for he did recognize his plebeian relative. "This is your uncle," said Gerald, gravely. "Is your mother at home?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER VIII A COLD RECEPTION "I DON'T think she is," said Abel, reddening with mortification. Just then Mrs. Lane's voice was heard from the head of the stairs. "Who are you talking with, Abel?" "It's me, Melindy—your brother Alonzo," said Mr. Crane. Mrs. Lane descended the stairs slowly, looking very much annoyed. She was ashamed of her plebeian brother, and very much disturbed that Gerald should have seen him. It occurred to her to deny the relationship, but this seemed impracticable. So she said with an ill grace, not even offering her hand: "What brought you here, Alonzo?" "I reckon the cars brought me here, Melindy. It does me good to see you well fixed. You have feathered your nest well, I must say." Mrs. Lane bit her lips. "You can come in and sit down," she said. "I shall be glad if you will talk more like a gentleman." "But I'm not a gentleman, Melindy. I am an honest, hard-working blacksmith. Carrie and the children send their love." "I am obliged to them," said Mrs. Lane, stiffly. "I wonder you could get away from your work for a visit." "Well, the truth is, Melindy, I'm in hard luck. My shop burned down day before yesterday, and I need money to build it up again." "Wasn't it insured?" asked his sister, coldly. "The insurance ran out a month ago. So I naturally thought of my only sister who is a rich woman, and I've come to ask a loan of two hundred dollars. That, I calculate, will set me on my feet again." "The estate is not yet settled, and even if it were I should not feel at liberty to take Mr. Lane's money for such a purpose." "I reckon you'll spend it on yourself and Abel, Melindy." "My husband left a son."