Harry stopped, and waited respectfully to learn what the old man wanted. It is a common complaint that most boys are wanting in respect to old age, but this charge could not be brought against Harry, who was uniformly courteous to all persons older than himself. Though he suspected the old man to be very poor, it made no difference to him. “Can you tell me where Mr. Ross lives?” asked the stranger. “Yes, sir. I suppose you mean Colonel Ross?” “I believe that’s what they call him. His wife is my niece.” Harry was very much surprised to hear this. “Have you ever been there before, sir?” asked Harry. “No; I’ve been living out in Illinoy. But I’m getting old, and my only daughter died last month. So I’ve come here to visit my niece.” “I don’t believe Mrs. Ross will be very glad to see her uncle,” thought Harry; “and I’m sure Philip won’t.” “I will show you the way, sir, if you wish,” said Harry, politely. “I wish you would, if it isn’t too much trouble,” said the old man. “Oh, no trouble at all,” said Harry. “You seem to be a very obliging boy. What is your name?” “Harry Gilbert.” “Are your parents living?” “My mother is living, but my father’s dead—that is, we expect he is. He was a sea captain, and never came back from his last voyage.” “Did he leave your mother well off?” asked the old man, gazing attentively at Harry. Harry thought him rather inquisitive for a stranger, but credited him with good motives, and answered, readily: “No, sir; we are quite poor; but I have had a place where I earned four dollars a week—at the grocery store. Mr. Mead had a nephew come last week, and now I am out of work.” “That is unlucky for you.” “Yes, sir; but I shall try hard to get something else soon.” “You look like an industrious boy.” “I like to work.” “Where do you live?” It so happened that Harry’s house could be pointed out across the fields, though at least a quarter of a mile away. “There it is,” he said, pointing it out; “but, perhaps, you cannot see so far?” “Oh, yes, I can see it.” By this time they had reached the gate of Colonel Ross, and Harry felt that he might safely leave the old man. Out on the lawn was Philip Ross, who, with surprise and displeasure, saw Harry opening the gate for one whom he mentally designated as an old tramp. “What do you want here?” he asked, in a tone far from courteous or respectful. “What is your name?” asked the old man, fixing his glance on the questioner. “My name is Philip Ross, and I am the son of Colonel Ross,” answered Philip, with an air of consequence. “Then I am your great-uncle, Philip,” said the old man, surveying his young kinsman with an interest inspired by the feeling of relationship. “My great-uncle,” repeated Philip, in mingled bewilderment and dismay. “Yes, Philip, I’m your mother’s uncle, come all the way from Illinoy to visit you.” Harry was amused to see upon the face of his young antagonist a look of stupefaction.