IT MUST be explained that Tom and his father, on reaching New York late in the evening, went to the Astor House to spend the night.

At the breakfast-table the next morning, Tom, in looking about him, to his great surprise recognized Darius Darke. Mr. Darke was equally surprised to meet Tom. It appeared that Mr. Darke had arrived from Europe on a Cunard steamer only two days previous.

He reported that he had a pleasant trip. During his absence his man of business, with whom he had left his funds, had managed by skillful manipulation to more than double his money, so that he found himself, even after deducting the expenses of his European trip, the possessor of twenty thousand dollars.

Tom, too, had his story to tell, and he received the hearty congratulations of Darius Darke for the energy, perseverance and pluck which had enabled him to succeed in the face of so many difficulties.

“And now, Tom,” said Mr. Darke, “we will form an alliance, go up to Wilton, and bring consternation and dismay to our common enemy, John Simpson.”

So it was agreed, but Mr. Darke was to stop over night at a town five miles distant from Wilton, and ride over in the morning.

252

John Simpson, with a pleasant sense of triumph in his heart, left his handsome dwelling to call upon Mrs. Thatcher, whom he considered now to be in his power.

He could not explain why it was that he hated the Thatchers so much, but it is generally the case that the victim is hated by the one who has injured him. Moreover, as long as Mrs. Thatcher remained in Wilton she recalled a scene in his life which he was anxious to forget.

Therefore, he desired by depriving her of her humble home to force her to leave Wilton for good.

When Mr. Simpson entered the cottage he found Mrs. Thatcher alone. Tom and his father and sister were together in an upper room.

“Well, widow, I’ve called to see you about the mortgage,” said the rich man, sinking into a rocking-chair.

At the words Mrs. Thatcher’s heart felt a thrill of happiness, for she was a widow no longer. She did not know, for it had not been revealed to her, that the man before her had tried to make her a widow, or she would not have been able to treat him with common politeness.

“Can’t you let me have more than four hundred dollars on the place, Mr. Simpson?” she asked, having been so instructed by Tom.

“No,” said the shoe manufacturer, decidedly.

“The place is worth a thousand dollars.”

“Nonsense, Mrs. Thatcher. It wouldn’t bring over six hundred.”

“I can hardly believe that.”

“I will strain a point and give you that sum,” said Mr. Simpson, who knew very well that he would be making an excellent bargain.

253 “I can’t decide upon so important a matter without consulting my son.”

To Mr. Simpson’s amazement she went to the foot of the stairs and called “Tom.”

“Has Tom got home?” asked the rich man, looking disturbed.

“He got home last night.”

Before Mr. Simpson had a chance to ask any further questions, Tom entered the room. He was looking healthy and manly, but he was shabbily dressed.

“He has returned as poor as he went,” thought John Simpson.

“So you’ve got home,” said he coldly.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you are probably convinced by this time that you were a fool to leave home.”

“No, sir; I have seen something of the world. Besides, there was nothing for me to do here.”

“Where did you go?”

“To California.”

Mr. Simpson started, and carefully scrutinized Tom’s face, but it told him nothing.

“There was nothing for me to do here,” continued Tom.

“Mr. Simpson said the other day that he would take you back into his shop,” said Mrs. Thatcher.

Tom looked inquiringly at the rich man, who said, coldly: “At present there is no vacancy. There may not be any for some months.”

“But how am I to live in the meantime?” asked Tom.

254 “On the money I will advance to your mother on the place.”

Mrs. Thatcher repeated the offer which Mr. Simpson had made, and asked: “Shall I accept, Tom?”

“No,” answered Tom, promptly.

“Do you propose to be guided by the advice of this young jackanapes, Mrs. Thatcher?” asked John Simpson, angrily.

“Tom knows more about business than I do.”

“He looks like it—a ragged tramp like him!” said the rich man, with a sneer. “After that display of impudence I refuse altogether to employ him. Now you can do as you please—accept my offer or starve with him.”

“Mother,” said Tom, quietly, “will you be kind enough to leave me alone with Mr. Simpson? I wish to speak to him in private.”

“Certainly, Tom.”

Very much to his surprise, Mr. Simpson found himself left alone with Tom, whose manner was self-possessed and grave.

“What does all this mean?” he asked, imperiously.

“Be patient, Mr. Simpson, I have something to say which you ought to hear. When I was in California I visited a place called Rocky Gulch.”

John Simpson’s ruddy face paled, and he made a visible start, but he recovered himself by an effort.

“That was foolish,” he said. “All the gold dust has been gathered long ago, and there could be no advantage in going there.”

255 “I wanted to find out something, if I could, about my poor father’s disappearance,” said Tom, gravely.

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