paradise--I'll do something. I don't know what, and I won't bother
about it till the time comes. But I'll do something."

"Could you earn a living?" asked the old lawyer.

"Perhaps not; but I'll get one. Will I be a beggar?"

"I don't know. It depends on whether Aunt Jane leaves you anything in
her will."

"I hope she won't leave me a cent!" cried the boy, with sudden
fierceness. "I hate her, and will be glad when she is dead and out of
my way!"

"Kenneth--Kenneth, lad!"

"I hate her!" he persisted, with blazing eyes. "She has insulted me,
scorned me, humiliated me every moment since I have known her. I'll be
glad to have her die, and I don't want a cent of her miserable money."

"Money," remarked the old man, knocking the ashes from his pipe, "is
very necessary to one who is incompetent to earn his salt. And the
money she leaves you--if she really does leave you any--won't be
her's, remember, but your Uncle Tom's."

"Uncle Tom was good to my father," said the boy, softening.

"Well, Uncle Tom gave his money to Aunt Jane, whom he had expected
to marry; but he asked her to care for his relatives, and she'll
doubtless give you enough to live on. But the place will go to some