“Poor little chap! He looks sick, that’s a fact!” said the kind-hearted countryman. “Yes, I’ll give you both a lift, and I won’t ask a cent.” There was some surprise felt at the hotel when Robert appeared with his new-found friend. Some of the servants looked askance at the ragged clothes, but Robert said quietly: “I will pay for him,” and no objection was made. When Bill was undressed and put to bed and had partaken of a refreshing breakfast he looked a great deal brighter and seemed much more cheerful. “You are very kind,” he said to Robert. “I hope somebody would do as much for me if I needed it,” answered Robert. “Do you mind telling me about yourself?” “I will tell anything you wish,” said Bill, who now felt perfect confidence in his new friend. “What is your name?” “Bill Benton; at any rate, that’s what they call me.” “Don’t you think it’s your real name, then?” “No.” “Have you any remembrance of your real name?” asked Robert, not dreaming of the answer he would receive. “When I was a little boy they called me Julian, but----” “Julian!” repeated Robert eagerly. “Yes.” “Can you tell what was your last name?” asked Robert quickly. Bill shook his head. “No, I don’t remember.” “Tell me,” said Robert, “did you live with a man named Badger in the town of Dexter?” The sick boy started and seemed extremely surprised. “How did you find out?” he asked. “Did Mr. Badger send you for me?” “I never saw Mr. Badger in my life.” Bill--or perhaps I ought to say Julian--looked less anxious. “Yes,” he said, “but he treated me badly and I ran away.” “Did you ever hear of a man named Charles Waldo?” “Yes, he was the man that sent me to Mr. Badger.” “It’s a clear case!” thought Robert, overjoyed, “I have no doubt now that I have found the hermit’s son. Poor boy, how he must have suffered!” “Julian,” said he, “do you know why I am traveling--what brought me here? But of course you don’t. I came to find you.” “To find me? But you said----” “No, it was not Mr. Badger nor Mr. Waldo that sent me. They are your enemies. The one that sent me is your friend. Julian, how would you like to have a father?” “My father is dead.” “Who told you so?” “Mr. Waldo. He told Mr. Badger so.” “He told a falsehood, then. You have a father, and as soon as you are well enough I’ll take you to him.” “Will he be kind to me?” “Do not fear. For years he has grieved for you, supposing you dead. Once restored to him, you will have everything to make you happy. Your father is a rich man, and you won’t be overworked again.” “What is my father’s name?” asked Julian. “His name is Gilbert Huet.” “Huet! Yes, that’s the name!” exclaimed Julian eagerly. “I remember it now. My name used to be Julian Huet, but Mr. Waldo was always angry whenever any one called me by that name, and so he changed it to Bill Benton.”