“You may order a carriage, Philip,” said Mr. Carter the next morning. “Pick out a handsome one with seats for four.”
“Yes, sir.”
In five minutes the carriage was at the door.
“Now, Philip, we will go to see my long-neglected niece, Mrs. Forbush. Give the driver the necessary directions.”
“Mrs. Forbush does not have many carriage-callers,” said Philip, smiling.
“Perhaps she will have more hereafter,” said Mr. Carter, “I ought not so long to have lost sight of her. I always liked Rebecca better than Lavinia, yet I let the latter prejudice me against her cousin, who is in disposition, education and sincerity her superior. You see, Philip, there are old fools in the world as well as young ones.”
“It is never too late to mend, Mr. Carter,” said Phil, smiling.
“That's very true, even if it is a young philosopher who says it.”
“I don't claim any originality for it, Mr. Carter.”
“By the way, Philip, I have noticed that you always express yourself very correctly. Your education must be good.”
“Yes, sir, thanks to my father, or the man whom I always regarded as my father. I am a fair Latin scholar, and know something of Greek.”
“Were you preparing for college?” asked Mr. Carter, with interest.
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you like to go?”
“I should have gone had father lived, but my step-mother said it was foolishness and would be money thrown away.”
“Perhaps she preferred to incur that expense for her own son?” suggested the old gentleman.
“Jonas wouldn't consent to that. He detests study, and would decidedly object to going to college.”
“By the way, you haven't heard from them lately?”
“Only that they have left our old home and gone no one knows where.”
“That is strange.”
By this time they had reached the humble dwelling occupied by Mrs. Forbush.
“And so this is where Rebecca lives?” said Mr. Carter.
“Yes, sir. It is not quite so nice as Mrs. Pitkin's.”
“No,” returned Mr. Carter thoughtfully.
Philip rang the bell, and the two were admitted into the humble parlor. They had not long to wait for Mrs. Forbush, who, with an agitation which she could not overcome, entered the presence of her long estranged and wealthy uncle.
“Rebecca!” exclaimed the old gentleman, rising, and showing some emotion as he saw the changes which fifteen years had made in the niece whom he had last met as a girl.
“Uncle Oliver! how kind you are to visit me!” cried Mrs. Forbush, the tears starting from her eyes.
“Kind! Nonsense! I have been very unkind to neglect you so long. But it wasn't all my fault. There were others who did all they could to keep us apart. You have lost your husband?”
“Yes, uncle. He was poor, but he was one of the kindest and best of men, and made me happy.”
“I begin to think I have been an old fool, Rebecca. Philip thinks so, too.”
“Oh, Mr. Carter!” exclaimed our hero.
“Yes, you do, Philip,” asserted Mr. Carter, “and you are quite right. However, as you told me, it is never too late to mend.”
“Mrs. Forbush will think I take strange liberties with you, sir.”
“I don't object to good advice, even from a boy. But who is this?”
Julia had just entered the room. She was a bright, attractive girl, but held back bashfully until her mother said:
“Julia, this is Uncle Oliver Carter. You have heard me speak of him.”
“Yes, mamma.”
“And scold about him, I dare say. Well, Julia, come and give your old uncle a kiss.”
Julia blushed, but obeyed her uncle's request.
“I should know she was your child, Rebecca. She looks as............