than my young reader."

"Decidedly, that boy is in my way," said John Wade to himself. "I must
manage to get rid of him, and that speedily, or my infatuated uncle will
be adopting him."

"Of what disease did George's boy die, John?" asked Mr. Wharton.

"A sudden fever."

"I wish I could have seen him before he died. But I returned only to
find both son and grandson gone. I had only the sad satisfaction of
seeing his grave."

"Yes, he was buried in the family lot at Greenwood, five days before you
reached home."

"When I see men of my own age, surrounded by children and grandchildren,
it makes me almost envious," said Mr. Wharton, sadly. "I declare to
you, John, since that boy has been with me, I have felt happier and more
cheerful than for years."

"That boy again!" muttered John to himself. "I begin to hate the young
cub, but I mustn't show it. My first work will be to separate him from
my uncle. That will require consideration. I wonder whether the boy
knows that he is not Fowler's son? I must find out. If he does, and
should happen to mention it in my uncle's presence, it might awaken
suspicions in his mind. I must interview the boy, and find out what I
can. To enlist his confidence, I must assume a friendly manner."