far as I know, I'm his nearest relation, there's no reason why he
shouldn't launch out a little for the benefit of the family."

It will be gathered from the foregoing soliloquy that the newcomer was a
nephew of Paul Nichols. After a not very creditable youth, he had gone
to sea, and for eighteen years this was his first reappearance in his
native town.

He sat down in a chair, and stretched out his legs, with an air of being
at home.

"I wonder what the old man will say when he sees me," he soliloquized.
"Ten to one he won't know me. When we saw each other last I was a
smooth-faced youth. Now I've got hair enough on my face, and the years
have made, their mark upon me, I suspect. Where is he, I wonder, and how
long have I got to wait for him? While I'm waiting, I'll take the
liberty of looking in the closet, and seeing if he hasn't something to
refresh the inner man. I didn't make much of a breakfast, and something
hearty wouldn't come amiss."

He rose from his chair, and opened the closet door. A small collection
of crockery was visible, most of it cracked, but there was nothing
eatable to be seen, except half a loaf of bread. This was from the
baker, for the old man, after ineffectual efforts to make his own bread,
had been compelled to abandon the attempt, and patronize the baker.

"Nothing but a half loaf, and that's dry enough," muttered the
stranger. "That isn't very tempting. I can't say much for my uncle's
fare, unless he has got something more attractive somewhere."