“‘MY DEAR GEORGE:—You see by the heading of this that the wanderer has returned—yes, and returned to wander no more. I cannot write much, for I am not able to do so. I returned from abroad last fall, since when I have been with Henry, and now propose to go East and visit or make my future home with you, as you have so often pressed me to do. I know you will heartily sympathize with me when I tell you that the steamer on which I sailed was wrecked, and all I had was lost. I regret to come to you, as I shall, almost penniless, and in this broken state; but you have so often told me that there would always be “a warm corner in your home” for me, that I am going to take you at your word. I shall not wait for a reply to this, but follow almost immediately, for I know I shall meet with a hearty welcome.’” Then followed a few affectionate sentences for each member of the family, but Mrs. Richards scarce heeded them. “It can’t be possible that Uncle Jacob has lost all his property!” she cried, aghast. “Why, the last we heard he was worth a million!” “I know; but in these days it does not take long to lose a million,” her husband replied, gravely, adding: “It is a misfortune, indeed, for the old man; but we will do the best we can for him, allowing him to feel it as little as possible. He _will_ feel it, however, for he was, as I remember him, a very high-spirited, independent man.” Mrs. Richards’ face was crimson from mingled emotions. “It is a shame!” she cried, angrily. “Uncle Jacob always gave Henry and me to understand that we should be his heirs; and now we have to lose half a million apiece. How under the sun do you suppose he lost it?” “I have no idea—some speculation, doubtless.” “It appears that he expects to be taken care of in his old age just the same as if he were the Crœsus we have always supposed him to be,” Mrs. Richards said, wrathfully. “He has a right to expect it,” her husband replied, with some sternness; “you have always professed the deepest affection for him, and urged him to make his home with you. Who _should_ take care of him in his misfortune if not his only brother’s children?” “Henry is as well able to have him as I am, and I don’t see why he could not have staid there.” “Perhaps he was no more welcome there than it appears he will be here,” Mr. Richards remarked, sarcastically. “Well, I’m not going to have him here, and there’s an end of the matter. I shall post him right back to Henry. His wife does not have half the care that I do, socially. We might as well open a hospital for the lame, the blind, the halt, and beggars generally.” “I am astonished to hear you speak thus, Ellen, and of your own relatives, too, especially after all your flattering protestations. Of course we will receive your uncle kindly, and show him all proper attention.”