“God bless and reward you, Robert!” said Mr. Huet, taking the hand of our hero. “You shall find that I am not ungrateful for this great service. I want to talk to my boy alone for a time, but I will come to your aunt’s house to supper with Julian. Please tell her so, and ask her to let it be a good one.” “I will, Mr. Huet.” From Julian his father drew the story of his years of hardship and ill treatment, and his heart was stirred with indignation as he thought of the cruelty of the relative who had subjected him and his son to that long period of grief and suffering. “Your trials are over now, Julian,” he said. “You will be content to live with me, will you not?” “Will Robert live with us?” asked the boy. “Do you like Robert?” asked his father. “I love him like a brother,” said Julian impulsively. “You don’t know how kind he has been to me, father!” “Yes, Robert shall live with us, if he will,” said Mr. Huet. “I will speak about it to him to-morrow.” “Will you live here, father?” “Oh, no! You must be educated. I shall take you to Boston or New York, and there you shall have every advantage that money can procure. Hitherto I have not cared to be rich. Now, Julian, I value money for your sake.” Together they went to Mrs. Trafton’s cottage to supper. “What makes you look so sober, Robert?” asked Mr. Huet, observing that the boy looked grave. “I have heard that Mr. Jones will foreclose his mortgage to-morrow.” “Not if you pay it,” said Mr. Huet quietly. “Come with me after supper, and I will hand you all the money you require.” Robert was about to express his gratitude, but Mr. Huet stopped him. “You owe me no thanks,” he said. “It is only the first installment of a great debt which I can never wholly repay.” CHAPTER XXXIII THE LANDLORD’S DEFEAT About ten o’clock the next morning Mr. Nahum Jones approached the Trafton cottage. Sitting on a bench outside was Robert Coverdale, whittling. He had put on his old clothes, intending it to be for the last time. He wanted to surprise Mr. Jones. “There’s Bob Coverdale,” said Mr. Jones to himself. “He don’t look much as if he was able to pay the mortgage. I guess I’ve got the place fast enough.” “Is your aunt at home, young man?” he asked pompously. “Yes,” answered Robert, continuing to whittle. “You might say ‘yes, sir.’” “All right. I’ll remember next time.” “You’d better. Tell your aunt I want to see her--on business,” emphasizing the last two words. “Come right in, sir.” Mr. Jones, with a patronizing air, entered the house of which he already considered himself the proprietor. Mrs. Trafton was engaged in making a pudding, for she had two boarders now, Julian and his father, who were to take their meals in the fisherman’s cottage till they got ready to leave Cook’s Harbor. “Good mornin’, ma’am,” said Mr. Jones. “Good morning. Will you take a seat?” she said quietly. “I can’t stay long, Mrs. Trafton. I called on a little matter of business.” “Very well, sir.”