I stopped short to look at the man as he hopped to the ground. He was slimly built, with a thin, sharp face, and cold gray eyes. He carried a hand-satchel, and this he swung from his right to his left hand as he came forward to greet me. “So this is my nephew Reuben?” he said in a high voice, as we shook hands. “I suppose you’ve been expecting me?” “Not quite so soon,” I replied. “I thought you’d come in a day or two, sir.” “Well, I made first-class time. The train left half an hour after the funeral was over, and I didn’t see no use in hanging around any longer. I settled all the bills beforehand. They were mighty high too. A hundred and twenty-five dollars for the coffin and carriage, and fifty dollars for the ground, besides twenty-five for the undertaker, which brings the whole up to two hundred dollars.” By this time the stage-coach was on its way again, and we were left standing alone. “Tell me about my father,” I said. “I want to know all about how the awful thing happened.” “Now, don’t be so fast, Reuben; there’s lots of time. Wait till I’ve had supper, and got rested up a bit. Traveling don’t seem to agree with me. How are things at the mill?” “Rather slow, sir.” “What! you must be fooling!” “No, I am not. Trade all around has been slack this summer.” “Humph! That must be because you are only a boy. Just you wait till I get to managing things, then I guess business will hum.” “I do the best I can,” I replied, not liking to be talked to in this fashion. “Of course, of course; but then you’re nothing but a boy, and a boy can’t do half as well as a man.” “I am doing as well as any one in these parts. I go ’way over to Bayport for orders.” Mr. Norton started slightly. “Bayport?” he queried. “Yes, sir.” “Well, that ain’t very far.” “It is farther than father used to go.” “Well, your father wasn’t any great hand for business, I guess.” “Father was always ready to do his best,” I returned warmly, not liking the manner in which my father’s character had been assailed. “He was not responsible for the dull times here.” “Maybe; but business is just what a man makes it.” “Are you a miller, sir?” “No, I ain’t; but I guess it won’t take a man like me long to learn the business.” I had my doubts concerning the truth of the last assertion. I had been around a mill all my life, and yet there was hardly a day passed but what some new difficulty presented itself. “You see, I’m a self-made man,” went on Mr. Norton. “I left home long before my sister Mary had married your father. I went out to Chicago, and all the money I have I made there without help from any one.” “Are you rich?” I ventured. “Oh, no; but I’m comfortable,――that is, I will be when I get back the money I loaned your father.” “Father couldn’t have borrowed much.” “What?” cried Mr. Norton. “That is all you know about it. He came to me pretty often; and that money, added to the funeral expenses, made a good round sum.” “How much?” I asked faintly.