Strong and Steady. Alger Horatio Jr.

that his father would be appointed guardian, as it might make a difference in the family living; and, besides, if his cousin were rich, he meant to wheedle himself into his confidence, in the hope of future advantage.

      "When shall you set out?" asked Mrs. Drummond.

      "To-morrow morning, I think," said her husband. "It will be hard to leave, but it's due to my cousin's memory."

      Mr. Drummond had become very punctilious all at once, considering that for the last dozen years Mr. Conrad, who had by no means admired him, had had little or no communication with him. But then he had died rich, and who knows what sort of a will he had left? At any rate, Jacob began to feel a strong interest in him now. He might have put off going to Willoughby till the morning train on the day of the funeral, for two o'clock was the hour fixed for the last ceremony; but he was in a hurry to learn all he could about the property, and secure, if possible, the guardianship for himself. This was the secret of his willingness to sacrifice time and money out of regard to his cousin's memory. The next day, therefore, he started, taking with him in his valise a lunch of bread and meat tied up in a piece of brown paper. He didn't intend to spend any more money than was absolutely necessary on tavern bills.

      Shortly after his arrival, he called at the house of mourning.

      "I am Jacob Drummond, of Stapleton, the cousin of the deceased," he explained to Nancy, who opened the door to admit him. "Is my young relative, Mr. Conrad's son, at home?"

      "Yes, sir," said Nancy, taking an inventory of his features, and deciding that he was a very disagreeable looking man.

      "Will you mention my name to him, and say that I should like to see him?"

      Mr. Drummond was ushered into the parlor, where he had a little chance to look around him before Walter appeared.

      "It's all nonsense wasting so much money on furniture," he mentally ejaculated. "The money spent is a dead loss when it might be drawing handsome interest."

      Walter did not long keep him waiting.

      Mr. Drummond rose at his entrance.

      "I suppose you don't know me," he said; "but I was your father's nearest living relation."

      "Mr. Drummond, I believe."

      "Yes, Jacob Drummond, of Stapleton. You have probably heard your father speak of me?"

      "Yes, sir," said Walter.

      "I came as soon as I could after getting the telegram. I left my business to take care of itself. I wanted to offer you my sympathy on your sad loss."

      Mr. Drummond's words were kind, though the reference to his sacrifice in leaving his business might have been as well left out. Still Walter could not feel as grateful as he wanted to do. Somehow he didn't fancy Mr. Drummond.

      "You are very kind," he said.

      "I mean to be. You know I'm your nearest relation now. I truly feel for you in your desolate condition, and though it may not be the right time to say it, I must tell you that I hope, when the funeral is over, you will accompany me home, and share our humble hospitality. Mrs. Drummond joins with me in the invitation."

      Mrs. Drummond had not been consulted in the matter, but her husband thought it would sound well to say so.

      "I have not had time to think of future arrangements," said Walter; "but I thank you for your invitation."

      Walter did not know the motives which induced Mr. Drummond to extend this invitation, but supposed it to be meant in kindness, and so acknowledged it.

      "My son Joshua, too," said Mr. Drummond, "is longing to make your acquaintance. He is older than you, but not much larger. How old are you?"

      "I am fifteen."

      "You are well grown of your age; Joshua is eighteen, but he will make a very pleasant companion for you. Let me hope that you will accept my invitation."

      "Thank you, Mr. Drummond; I will consult my friends about it."

      "I wonder how much board I could venture to ask," thought Mr. Drummond. "If I am his guardian, I can fix that to suit myself. A hundred thousand dollars would make me a rich man. That is, I could make money from it, without injuring the boy."

      Mr. Drummond asked a few more questions about Mr. Conrad's sickness and death. Walter answered them, but did not think it necessary to speak of his losses by the Mining Company. Mr. Drummond was a stranger, and not a man to inspire confidence. So Walter told as little as he could. At length the visitor, having exhausted inquiries, rose.

      "I shall be here to-morrow," he said. "I am stopping at the tavern. I shall return to Stapleton after the ceremony. I hope you will make up your mind to go back with me."

      "I could not be ready so soon," answered Walter, doubtfully.

      "I can wait till the next day."

      "That will not be necessary, Mr. Drummond. I shall have no difficulty in making the journey alone, if I conclude to accept your kind invitation."

      Mr. Drummond shook our hero's hand sympathetically, and at length withdrew. As he went down the avenue, he took a backward glance at the handsome mansion in which his cousin had lived.

      "That boy owns all that property," he said, half enviously, "and never worked a day for it. I've had to work for all my money. But it was foolish to spend so much money on a house. A third the sum would have built a comfortable house, and the rest might have been put at interest. If it turns out that I am the boy's guardian, I think I shall sell it. That'll be the best course."

      With these reflections Mr. Drummond pursued his way back to the village tavern, where he had taken the precaution to ascertain that he should be charged but a dollar and a quarter a day. He considered that a dollar would have been sufficient, but still it was proper to make some sacrifice to his cousin's memory. Mr. Conrad's mining speculation was not generally known in the village as yet, so that Mr. Drummond did not hear a word as to his loss of property.

      CHAPTER VI.

      FUTURE PLANS

      The funeral was over. Mr. Drummond, as indeed his relationship permitted, was one of the principal mourners. Considering that he had not seen Mr. Conrad for five years preceding his death, nor during that time communicated with him in any way, he appeared to be very much overcome by grief. He kept his eyes covered with a large white handkerchief, and his movements indicated suppressed agitation. He felt that this was a tribute due to a cousin who had left over one hundred thousand dollars.

      When they had returned from the grave, Mr. Drummond managed to have a word with Walter.

      "Have you decided to accept my offer, and make your home beneath my humble roof?" he asked.

      "There has been no time to consult with my friends here, Mr. Drummond. I will let you know next week. I thank you at any rate for your kindness."

      "Do come, Walter," said his cousin, twisting his mean features into an affectionate smile. "With you beneath my humble roof, I shall want nothing to complete my happiness."

      Walter thanked him again, wondering at the same time why Mr. Drummond's kindness did not affect him more sensibly.

      So Jacob Drummond went back to Stapleton, still ignorant of the state of Mr. Conrad's affairs, and still regarding Walter as a boy of great wealth.

      When the will was opened it was found to bear date two years back, before Mr. Conrad had plunged into the speculation which had proved so disastrous to him. He bequeathed all the property which he did possess to Walter, with the exception of five hundred dollars, which were left as a legacy to his faithful house-keeper, Nancy Forbes. At the time the will was made, its provisions made Walter heir to a large fortune. Now it was quite uncertain how things would turn out. Clement Shaw, the village lawyer, an honest and upright man, was made executor, being an old and tried friend of the deceased.

      With him Walter had a long and confidential conversation, imparting to him what he knew of his father's mining speculation and its disastrous result, with its probable effect in accelerating his death.

      "I knew something of this before, Walter," said Mr. Shaw. "Your father spoke to me of being