“But they have happy homes. When Mary lived, I enjoyed life, though the old farmhouse seemed rough and plain, compared with your handsome home. I’m glad to see my sister’s child living so well, with all the comforts that money can buy.” The old man’s tone was hearty, and there was a smile of genuine pleasure on his rugged face. He was forced to admit that his niece was not as cordial as he hoped, but, then, “Lucinda was always reserved and quiet-like,” he said to himself, and so excused her. It must be said for Colonel Ross that he knew comparatively little about his wife’s early life, and didn’t dream of the large obligations she was under to Uncle Obed. He was a rich man, and the consciousness of wealth led him to assume airs of importance, but he was not as cold or heartless as his wife, and would have insisted on his wife’s treating her uncle better had he known the past. Even as it was, he was much more gracious and affable than Mrs. Ross to the old man, whom he had never seen before. As for Philip, he was a second edition of his mother, and never addressed a word to Uncle Obed. When the latter spoke to him, he answered in monosyllables. “Nancy, you may leave the room. I’ll call you if I want you.” This was what Mrs. Ross said to the servant, fearing that Uncle Obed might refer to her early poverty, and that the girl might talk about it in the neighborhood. Though Colonel Ross made conversation easy for him, Uncle Obed could not help feeling the coldness of his niece. “Lucindy might treat me better,” he thought, “after what I did for her in her early days. But I see how it is; she’s ashamed of them, and I won’t say anything to make her feel bad. I see I must look elsewhere for a home. Lucindy don’t want me here, and I shouldn’t feel at home myself. I wish Philip was more like that Harry Gilbert, who showed me the way here.” Supper was over, and Philip took up his hat to go out. “Philip,” said his father, “you forget that your uncle is here. You should stay to keep him company.” “I’ve got an engagement,” said Philip, alarmed at the suggestion. “Can’t you put it off?” “Let the boy keep his engagement,” said Uncle Obed. “I like to see young people particular about keeping their appointments.” “Your uncle may like to walk out with you, and see something of the village.” Philip looked dismayed at the prospect of being seen in the company of the rather shabby old man, who claimed to be his great-uncle. “No, no,” said Uncle Obed. “I can find the way round by myself. A man that’s used to the Western prairies doesn’t get lost easily.” Philip breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time he began to think that Uncle Obed had some sensible ideas. Uncle Obed took his hat and cane, and walked out slowly, making his way along the principal street. “I wish I could see that boy Harry Gilbert,” he thought to himself—for a new plan had occurred to him. “Why, bless me, there he is now,” he said, as our hero turned the next corner.