FIVE HUNDRED 
 DOLLARS 
 
 ALGER
 
 (^LIBRARY I 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 I SAN DIEGO \
 
 / 
 
 -
 
 FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS 
 
 BY 
 
 HORATIO ALGER, JR. 
 
 AUTHOR OF -'THE ERIE TRAIN BOY," "FROM FARM BOY TO 
 SENATOR," "THE YOUNG ACROBAT," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HURST & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 ALGER SERIES FOR BOYS. 
 
 UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME. 
 BY HORATIO ALGER, JR. 
 
 Making His Way. 
 Mark Mason. 
 Only an Irish Boy. 
 Paul, the Peddler. 
 Phil, the Fiddler. 
 Ralph Raymond's Heir. 
 Risen from the Ranks. 
 Sam's Chance. 
 Shifting for Himself. 
 Sink or Swim. 
 Slow and Sure. 
 Store Boy. 
 Strive and Succeed. 
 Strong and Steady. 
 Struggling Upward. 
 Tin Box. 
 
 Tom, the Bootblack. 
 Tony, the Tramp. 
 Try and Trust. 
 Wait and Hope. 
 Walter Sherwood'i Pro- 
 bation. 
 
 Young Acrobat. 
 Young Adventurer. 
 Young Outlaw. 
 Young Salesman. 
 
 Adrift in New York. 
 
 A Cousin's Conspiracy. 
 
 Andy Gordon. 
 
 Andy Grant's Pluck. 
 
 Bob Burton. 
 
 Bound to Rise. 
 
 Brave and Bold. 
 
 Cash Boy. 
 
 Chester Rand 
 
 Do and Dare. 
 
 Driven from Home. 
 
 Erie Train Boy. 
 
 Facing the World. 
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Frank's Campaign. 
 
 Grit. 
 
 Hector's Inheritance. 
 
 Helping Himself. 
 
 Herbert Carter's Legacy. 
 
 In a New World. 
 
 Jack's Ward. 
 
 Jed, the Poor House Boy. 
 
 Joe's Luck. 
 
 Julius, the Street Boy. 
 
 Luke Walton. 
 
 Price, Post-Paid, jjc. each, or any three 
 books for $ i.oo. 
 
 HURST & COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS. NEW YORK.
 
 FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS, 
 
 OR, JACOB MARLOWE'S SECRET. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A NEW ARRIVAL IN LAKEVILLE. 
 
 SLOWLY through the village street walked 
 an elderly man, with bronzed features and 
 thin gray hair, supporting his somewhat un- 
 certain steps by a stout cane. He was appar- 
 ently tired, for, seeing a slight natural eleva- 
 tion under a branching elm tree, he sat down, 
 and looked thoughtfully about him. 
 
 " Well," he said, " Lakeville hasn't changed 
 much since I left it, twenty years since. Has 
 there been any change among those who are 
 near to me? I don't know, but I shall soon 
 find out. Shall I receive a welcome or not? 
 There ought to be two families to greet me, 
 but " 
 
 Here a boy appeared on the scene, a boy of 
 3
 
 4 . Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 fifteen, with a sturdy figure and a pleasant 
 face, whose coarse suit indicated narrow 
 means, if not poverty. Seeing the old man, 
 with instinctive politeness he doffed his hat 
 and with a pleasant smile bade him good- 
 morning. 
 
 " Good-morning," returned the traveller, 
 won by the boy's pleasant face and manner. 
 " If you are not in a hurry won't you sit down 
 by me and answer a few questions?" 
 
 " With pleasure, sir; my business isn't driv- 
 ing." 
 
 <' This is Lakeville, isn't it? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I used to know the place a good many 
 years since. It hasn't grown much." 
 
 " No, sir ; it's rather quiet." 
 
 " Chiefly a farming region, isn't it? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but there is a large shoe manu- 
 factory here, employing a hundred hands." 
 
 " Who is the owner? " 
 
 11 Squire Marlowe." 
 
 " Ha ! " ejaculated the old man, evidently 
 interested. " Albert Marlowe, isn't it? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; do you know him? " 
 
 " I haven't met him for twenty years, but we 
 are acquainted. I suppose he is prosperous." 
 
 " He is considered a rich man, sir. He is a 
 relation of mine."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 5 
 
 " Indeed ! What then is your name? " 
 asked the old man, eagerly. 
 
 " Herbert Barton most people call me Bert 
 Barton." 
 
 Bert was surprised at the keen scrutiny 
 which he received from the traveller. 
 
 " Was your mother Mary Marlowe? " the 
 latter asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir," returned Bert. " Did you know 
 her, too?" 
 
 " I ought to ; she is my niece, as the man 
 you call Squire Marlowe is my nephew." 
 
 " Then you must be Uncle Jacob, who has 
 lived so many years in California? " said Bert, 
 excitedly. 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Mother will be very glad to see you," 
 added Bert, cordially. 
 
 " Thank you, my boy. Your kind welcome 
 does me good. I hope your mother is well 
 and happy." 
 
 " She is a widow," answered Bert soberly. 
 
 " When did your father die? " 
 
 " Two years ago." 
 
 " I hope he left your mother in comfortable 
 circumstances." 
 
 Bert shook his head. 
 
 " He only left the small house we live in, 
 and that is mortgaged for half its value."
 
 6 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Then how do you live? " 
 
 " Mother covers base-balls for a firm in the 
 next town, and I am working in the big shoe 
 shop." 
 
 " Doesn't Squire Marlowe do anything for 
 your mother? " 
 
 " He gave me a place in the shop that is 
 all." 
 
 " Yet he is rich," said the old man, thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " Yes, he lives in a fine house. You can see 
 it down the street on the other side that 
 large one with a broad piazza. He keeps two 
 horses and two handsome carriages, and I am 
 sure he must have plenty of money." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. I have been a long 
 time among strangers. It will be pleasant to 
 come to anchor at the house of a rich relation. 
 Where does your mother live? " 
 
 " In a small cottage at the other end of 
 the street. Won't you come home with me, 
 Uncle Jacob? Mother will be glad to see you." 
 
 " I must call at Albert Marlowe's first. 
 What family has he?" 
 
 " He has one boy about my own age." 
 
 " I suppose you are very intimate being 
 cousins." 
 
 Bert laughed. 
 
 " He wouldn't thank you for calling us
 
 Hundred Dollars. 7 
 
 ," he answered. " Percy Marlowe is a 
 boy who thinks a good deal of himself. He 
 puts on no end of airs." 
 
 " Like his father before him. Is he a smart 
 boy?" 
 
 " Do you mean in his studies? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I don't know what he could do if he tried, 
 but he doesn't exert himself much. He says 
 it isn't necessary for him, as his father is a 
 rich man." 
 
 " How is it with you ? " 
 
 " I only wish I had his chance," said Bert, 
 warmly. " I am fond of study, but I am poor, 
 and must work for a living." 
 
 " You have the right idea, and he has not," 
 Raid the old man, sententiously. 
 
 At this moment a light buggy was driven 
 swiftly by. Seated in it was a boy about the 
 age of Bert, apparently, but of slighter figure. 
 The horse, suddenly spying the old man, shied, 
 and in a trice the buggy was upset, and the 
 young dude went sprawling on the ground. 
 
 Bert grasped the situation, and sprang to 
 the rescue. He seized the terrified horse, 
 while the old man helped reverse the carriage, 
 which fortunately had not met with any ma- 
 terial damage. The same may be said of the 
 yxmng driver who, with mortified face, strug-
 
 8 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 gled to his feet, and surveyed ruefully the 
 muddy stains on his handsome suit. 
 
 " I hope you're not, hurt, Percy," said Bert, 
 with solicitude. 
 
 " I've spoiled my suit, that's all," returned 
 Percy, shortly. " What made you scare my 
 horse? " 
 
 " I didn't," answered Bert, with spirit 
 " What right have you to charge me with 
 such a thing? " 
 
 " Then if it wasn't you, it was that old 
 tramp you were talking with," persisted Percy, 
 sullenly. 
 
 " Hush, Percy ! " said Bert, apprehensive 
 lest the old man's feelings might be hurt. 
 " You don't know who this* gentleman is." 
 
 " I never met the gentleman before," re- 
 joined Percy, with ironical deference. 
 
 " Then let me introduce him as your uncl^ 
 Jacob Marlowe, from California!" 
 
 Percy's face betrayed much more surprise 
 than pleasure as he stammered, " Is that 
 true? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the old man, smiling 
 calmly ; " I have the honor to be related to 
 you, young gentleman." 
 
 " Does father know you are here? " 
 
 "No; I am going to call upon him." 
 
 Percy hardly knew what to think. He had
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 9 
 
 heard his father speak of " Uncle Jacob " and 
 indulge in the hope that he had accumulated a 
 fortune in California. His shabby attire did 
 not suggest wealth, certainly, but Percy was 
 wise enough to know that appearances are not 
 always to be relied upon. If this old man 
 were wealthy, he would be w r orth propitiating. 
 At any rate, till he knew to the contrary he 
 had better be polite. 
 
 " Will you ride to the house with me, sir? " 
 he asked, considerably to Bert's surprise. 
 
 " No, thank you. There might be another 
 upset. Jump into the buggy, and I'll walk 
 along after you." 
 
 Percy was relieved by this decision, for he 
 had no wish to be seen with such a companion. 
 
 "All right, sir," he. said. "I'll see you at 
 the house." 
 
 Without a word of acknowledgment to Bert, 
 Percy sprang into the buggy and drove rapidly 
 away. 
 
 " Shall I go with you, Uncle Jacob? " asked 
 Bert. 
 
 " No, thank you. I can find the way. Tell 
 your mother that I will call on her very soon."
 
 to Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 UNCLE JACOB'S RECEPTION. 
 
 PERCY found his father at home, and 
 quickly acquainted him with the arrival in 
 town of Uncle Jacob. His news was received 
 with interest by Squire Marlowe. 
 
 "Why didn't you invite him to ride home 
 with you? " asked the squire. 
 
 " I did ; but he preferred to walk." 
 
 * What does he look like? " 
 
 <( Like an old tramp," answered Percy. 
 
 Squire Marlowe was taken aback ; for, with- 
 out having received any definite intelligence 
 from the long absent relative, he had somehow 
 persuaded himself that Uncle Jacob had accu- 
 mulated a fortune at the mines. 
 
 "Then he is shabbily dressed?" said the 
 squire, inquiringly. 
 
 " I should say so. I say, father, I thought 
 he was rich. You always said so." 
 
 " And I still think so." 
 
 " Then why don't he dress better? " 
 
 " He is rather eccentric, Percy ; and these 
 California miners don't care much for dress as 
 a rule. I shouldn't wonder if he were worth 
 half a million. You'd better treat him with
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. n 
 
 attention, for we are his natural heirs, and 
 there's no telling what may happen." 
 
 " Enough said, father. I don't care how he 
 dresses if he's got the cash." 
 
 " I must go and speak to your mother, or 
 she will treat him coldly. You know how 
 particular she is." 
 
 Squire Marlowe managed to drop a hint to 
 his wife, who was as worldly wise as himself, 
 and saw the advantage of being attentive to a 
 wealthy relative. 
 
 By this time Uncle Jacob had reached the 
 door. 
 
 Squire Marlowe himself answered the bell, 
 as a mark of special attention, and gazed with 
 curiosity at the old man. 
 
 Jacob Marlowe, though coarsely clad, was 
 scrupulously neat and clean, and there was a 
 pleasant smile on his bronzed face as he recog- 
 nized his nephew. 
 
 " I believe you are Uncle Jacob," said the 
 squire, affably. 
 
 " Yes, Albert, and I'm mighty glad to see a 
 relation. It's twenty-five years since I have 
 seen one that was kin to me." 
 
 " Welcome to Lakeville, Uncle Jacob. I am 
 glad to see you. Percy told me he met you on 
 the road: Why didn't you ride up with him? 9> 
 
 " It wasn't worth gettin' in to ride a quarter
 
 12 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 of a mile. I am used to exercise in Cali- 
 fornia." 
 
 " To be sure. Come into the house, and lay 
 your valise down anywhere. Here is my wife, 
 Mrs. Marlowe. Julia, this is Uncle Jacob, of 
 whom you have heard me speak so often." 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Mr. Marlowe," said 
 the lady, formally, just touching the old man's 
 hand. 
 
 " Where are you going to put Uncle Jacob, 
 Julia? " asked the squire. 
 
 " You may take him to the blue room," said 
 Mrs. Marlowe, in a tone of hesitation. 
 
 This blue room was the handsomest chamber 
 in the house, and was assigned to those whom 
 it was considered politic to honor. 
 
 " Come right upstairs, Uncle Jacob. I'll 
 show you your room myself," said Albert 
 Marlowe. 
 
 " I ain't used to such luxury, Albert," said 
 the old man, as he gazed around the comfort- 
 ably appointed apartment. " You ought to 
 see my cabin at Murphy's diggings. I reckon 
 your servant would turn up her nose at it." 
 
 " I know you don't care much for style in 
 California, uncle." 
 
 " No, we don't, though we've got as hand- 
 some houses in 'Frisco as anywhere else.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 13 
 
 Why, Albert, this room is fine enough for a 
 prince." 
 
 " Then you can think yourself a prince," 
 said the squire, genially. " Now, if you want 
 to wash your face and hands, and arrange 
 your toilet, you will have abundant time before 
 dinner. Come down when you have finished." 
 
 Albert Marlowe returned to his wife. 
 
 " Mr. Marlowe," said she, " are you very 
 sure that old man is rich?" 
 
 " I have no doubt of it, Julia." 
 
 " But what an old fright he is ! Why, he 
 looks dreadfully common, and his clothes are 
 wretchedly shabby." 
 
 "True, Julia; but you must remember 
 miners are not very particular about their 
 dress." 
 
 " I should think not, if he is a fair specimen. 
 Tt makes me shudder to think of his occupy- 
 ing the blue-room. The hall bedroom on the 
 third floor would have been good enough for 
 him." 
 
 " Remember, my dear, he is in all probabil- 
 ity very weathy, and we are his heirs. I am 
 not so well off as people imagine, and it will 
 be a great thing for us to have a fortune of a 
 quarter or half a million drop in by and by." 
 
 " There's something in that, to be sure," the
 
 14 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 lady admitted. " But can't you induce him 
 to wear better clothes? " 
 
 " I will suggest it very soon. We mustn't 
 be too precipitate, for fear he should take 
 offense. You know these rich uncles expect to 
 be treated with a good deal of consideration." 
 
 " Do you think he will expect to live with 
 us? I shall really give up if I have got to have 
 such a looking old tramp as a permanent mem- 
 ber of the family." 
 
 " But, Julia, if he is really very rich, it is 
 important for us to keep him strictly in view. 
 You know there will be plenty of designing 
 persons, who will be laying snares to entrap 
 him, and get possession of his money." 
 
 " How old is he? Is he likely to live long?" 
 
 " I think he must be about sixty-five." 
 
 " And he looks alarmingly healthy," said 
 Mrs. Marlowe, with a sigh. 
 
 " His father died at sixty-seven." 
 
 Mrs. Marlowe brightened up. " That is en- 
 couraging," she said, hopefully. 
 
 " I don't think he looks so very healthy," 
 added the squire. 
 
 " He has a good color." 
 
 " His father was the picture of health till 
 within a few weeks of his death." 
 
 " What did he die of? " 
 
 " Apoplexy."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 15 
 
 " To be sure. The old man looks as if he 
 might go off that way." 
 
 " In that case we should only need to be 
 troubled with him a couple of years, and for 
 that we should be richly repaid." 
 
 " They will seem like two eternities," 
 groaned the lady, " and the chief burden will 
 come on me." 
 
 " You shall be repaid, my dear ! Only treat 
 him well ! " 
 
 "Will you give me half what money he 
 leaves to us? " 
 
 " Say one-third, Julia. That will repay yon 
 richly for all your trouble." 
 
 " Very well ! Let it be a third. But, Mr. 
 Marlowe, don't let there be any mistake! I 
 depend upon you to find out as soon as pos- 
 sible how much money the old man has." 
 
 " Trust to me, Julia. I am just as anxious 
 to know as you are." 
 
 In twenty minutes Uncle Jacob came down 
 stairs. He had done what he could to improve 
 his appearance, or " slick himself up," as he 
 expressed it, and wore a blue coat and vest, 
 each provided with brass buttons. But from 
 close packing in his valise both were creased 
 up in such a manner that Squire Marlowe and 
 his wife shuddered, and Percy's face wore a& 
 amused and supercilious smile.
 
 16 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " I declare I feel better to be dressed up," 
 said the old man. " How long do you think 
 I've had this coat and vest, Albert?" 
 
 " I really couldn't guess." 
 
 " I had it made for me ten years ago in 
 Sacramento. It looks pretty well, but then 
 I've only worn it for best." 
 
 Percy had to stuff his handkerchief in his 
 mouth to repress a laugh. Uncle Jacob re- 
 garded him with a benevolent smile, and 
 seemed himself to be amused about something. 
 
 " Now, Uncle Jacob, we'll sit down to din- 
 ner. You must be hungry." 
 
 " Well, I have got a fairish appetite. What 
 a nice eatin' room you've got, Albert. I ain't 
 nsed to such style." 
 
 " I presume not," said Mrs. Marlowe, dryly. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A VISIT TO THE FACTORY. 
 
 DURING dinner the old man chatted away in 
 the frankest manner, but not a word did he 
 let drop as to his worldly circumstances. He 
 appeared to enjoy his dinner, and showed him- 
 self entirely at his ease.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 17 
 
 " I'm glad to see you sx) well fixed, Albert," 
 he said. " You've got a fine home." 
 
 " It will do very well," returned the squire, 
 modestly. 
 
 " I suppose he never was in such a good 
 house before," thought Mrs. Marlowe. 
 
 " By the way, just before I fell in with you. 
 here," went on Jacob, " I ran across Mary's 
 boy." 
 
 "Herbert Barton?" suggested the squire, 
 with a slight frown. 
 
 " Yes; he said that was his name." 
 
 " They live in the village," said his nephew, 
 shortly. 
 
 " They're poor, ain't they? " 
 
 " Yes ; Barton was not a forehanded man. 
 He didn't know how to accumulate money." 
 
 " I suppose he left very little to his widow." 
 
 " Very little. However, I have given the 
 boy a place in my factory, and I believe his 
 mother earns a trifle by covering base-balls. 
 They don't want for anything that is, any- 
 thing in reason. 
 
 " Bert Barton seems a likely boy." 
 
 " Oh, he's as good as the average of boys in 
 his position." 
 
 " I suppose he n*d Percy are quite intimate, 
 being cousins." 
 
 " Indeed we are not ! " returned Percy, toss-
 
 1 8 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 ing his head. " His position is very different 
 
 from mine." 
 
 ' Uncle Jacob surveyed Percy in innocent 
 
 wonder. 
 
 " Still, he's kin to you," he observed. 
 
 " That doesn't always count," said Percy. 
 " He has his friends, and I have mine. I 
 don't believe in mixing classes." 
 
 " I expect things have changed since I was; 
 a boy," said Uncle Jacob, mildly. " Then, all 
 the boys were friendly and sociable, no matter 
 whether they were rich or poor." 
 
 " I agree with Percy," broke in Mrs. Mar- 
 lowe, stiffly. " His position in life will be very 
 different from that of the boy you refer to. 
 Any early intimacy, even if we encouraged it r 
 could not well be kept up in after-life." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," said the old man. 
 " I've been away so long at the mines that I 
 haven't kept up with the age or the fashions." 
 
 Percy smiled, as his glance rested on his- 
 uncle's creased suit, and he felt quite ready to 
 agree with what he said. 
 
 " I was thinkin' how pleasant it would be if 
 you would invite Mary and her boy to tea 
 we are all related, you know. We could talk 
 over old times and scenes, and have a real 
 social time."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 19 
 
 Mrs. Marlowe seemed horror-struck at the 
 suggestion. 
 
 " I don't think it would be convenient," she 
 said, coldly. 
 
 " It would be better for you to see Mrs. 
 Barton at her own house," put in the squire, 
 hastily. 
 
 " Well, perhaps it would." 
 
 " By the way, Uncle Jacob, I hope your ex- 
 periences of California are pleasant," insinu- 
 ated Squire Marlowe. 
 
 " They're mixed, Albert. I've had my ups 
 and downs." 
 
 " I have heard of large fortunes being made 
 there," pursued the squire. " I suppose there's 
 some truth in what we hear? " 
 
 "To be sure! Why, ten years from the 
 time I went to the mines I had a hundred 
 thousand dollars deposited to my credit in a 
 Sacramento bank." 
 
 Squire Marlowe's eyes sparkled with pleas- 
 ure. It was just what he had been hoping to 
 find out. So Uncle Jacob was rich, after all ! 
 The squire's manner became even more gra- 
 cious, and he pressed upon his relative another 
 plate of ice cream. 
 
 " No, thank you, Albert," said the old man. 
 " I'm used to plain livin'. It isn't often I sit 
 down to a meal like this. Do you know, there's
 
 2O Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 nothing suits me better than a dinner of 
 corned beef and cabbage." 
 
 " How vulgar the old man is ! " thought Mrs. 
 Marlowe. " He may have money, but his 
 tastes are very common." 
 
 " We never have corned beef and cabbage 
 here," she said, with a slight shudder. 
 
 " Very likely Bert Barton's mother has it 
 very often," suggested Percy. 
 
 " My dear," said the squire, urbanely, " if 
 Uncle Jacob really enjoys those dishes so 
 much, you might provide them for his special 
 use." 
 
 " I will think of it," replied Mrs. Marlowe, 
 shortly. 
 
 Now that Uncle Jacob had hinted at the 
 possession of wealth, Squire. Marlowe beheld 
 him as one tranfigured. He was no longer a 
 common, shabby old man, but a worthy old 
 gentleman of eccentric ideas in the matter of 
 wardrobe and manners. 
 
 " I wonder if Uncle Jacob wouldn't advance 
 me twenty-five thousand dollars," was the 
 thought that was passing through his mind as 
 he gazed genially at his countrified guest. " It 
 vould help me amazingly in my business, and 
 enable me to do double as much. I will men- 
 tion it to him in good time." 
 
 " I've a great mind to come upon the old
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 21 
 
 man for a handsome birthday present," 
 thought Percy. " Fifty dollars wouldn't be 
 much for him to give. I shan't get more than 
 a fiver from the governor." 
 
 " Uncle Jacob," said the squire, as they rose 
 from the table, " suppose you walk over to the 
 factory with me; I should like you to S'ee it." 
 
 " Nothing would please me better," said 
 Jacob Marlowe, briskly. 
 
 "Will you come along, Percy?" asked his 
 father. 
 
 " No, papa," answered Percy, with a grim- 
 ace. " You know I don't like the smell of 
 leather." 
 
 " / ought not to dislike it," said the squire, 
 with a smile, " for it gives me a very handsome 
 income." 
 
 " Oh, it's different with you," returned 
 Percy. " Just give me the profits of the fac- 
 tory and I'll go there every day." 
 
 " He's a sharp one ! " said the squire, with 
 a smile. 
 
 " I am afraid he is too sharp to suit me," 
 thought Uncle Jacob. " It seems to me the 
 boy's mind runs upon money, and his own in- 
 terests." 
 
 The shoe factory was a large building of two 
 stories, and within it was a hive of industry. 
 
 As the ^quire led the way he explained the
 
 22 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 various workings to the old man, who was 
 really curious and interested. It was on a 
 larger scale than was common at the time he 
 left for California, and the use of machinery 
 had to a greater extent supplemented and 
 superseded the work of the hands. 
 
 Finally they came to a room where several 
 boys were pegging shoes, for this work was 
 still done in the old-fashioned way. Uncle 
 Jacob's eyes lighted up when in one of them 
 he recognized Bert Barton. 
 
 He hurried forward, and put his hand on 
 Bert's shoulder. 
 
 " So this is your business," he said. 
 
 " Yes," answered Bert, with a smile. 
 
 "Do you find it hard work?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! That is, I am used to it. It used 
 to tire me at first." 
 
 " Did you tell your mother I was in town? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Bert, " and she says she 
 hopes you will call." 
 
 " To be sure I will. I may cal? this even- 
 ing." 
 
 " He's a likely boy, Albert," said Uncle 
 Jacob, rejoining the squire, who stood aloof 
 with a look of annoyance on his face. 
 
 " He works very well, I believe," was the 
 cold reply. "Shall we move on?" 
 
 " Albert doesn't seem to feel much interest
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 23 
 
 in his poor relations/' thought Uncle Jacob. 
 " Well, it's human nature, I suppose." 
 
 " You seem to be doing a large business, Al- 
 bert," he said aloud. 
 
 " Yes ; but with a little more capital I could 
 very much increase it," rejoined the squire. 
 " With twenty-five thousand dollars now, I 
 would enlarge the factory to double its present 
 size, and do twice the business I am now do- 
 ing." 
 
 " I am afraid you want to get rich too fast, 
 Albert." 
 
 " It would gratify my spirit of enterprise, 
 Uncle Jacob. I feel that I have the ability to 
 make a big business success." 
 
 " Very likely, Albert. I've seen enough to 
 convince me of that." 
 
 " He'll lend me the money if I work things 
 right," Squire Marlowe said to himself. 
 " He'll be like wax in my hands." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 UNCLE JACOB'S STARTLING REVELATION. 
 
 " UNCLE JACOB was at the factory this 
 afternoon," said Bert to his mother, when he 
 went home. " He says he may call here this 
 evening."
 
 24 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " I hope he will. He was my poor mother's 
 favorite brother always kind and good- 
 hearted. How is he looking, Bert? " 
 
 " He seems in good health for an old man. 
 His face is browned up, as if he had been out 
 in the open air a good deal." 
 
 " I hope he has. It is twenty-five years 
 since he went to California. Does he look as 
 if he had prospered?" 
 
 " I am afraid he is poor, mother, for al- 
 though his clothing is neat and clean, it is 
 plain and the cloth is faded? " 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that, but I will wel- 
 come him none the less warmly. It will in- 
 deed seem like old times to have Uncle Jacob 
 in my house." 
 
 Meanwhile Bert had been bringing in wood 
 and doing chores for his mother. 
 
 " Did Uncle Jacob tell you how long he in- 
 tended to stay in Lakeville? " 
 
 "No, mother; I only had a short time to 
 talk with him when Percy rode by, and then 
 he started to call on the squire. Do you 
 know, mother, I am rather surprised that li<- 
 should have been so well received, poor as lit 
 looks." 
 
 " I think better of Albert for it. It shows 
 that he is not so worldly as I feared. Cer- 
 tainly Uncle Jacob ought to be well received
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 25 
 
 by Albert Marlowe, for when Albert's father 
 was in trouble Jacob lent him five hundred 
 dollars all in money he had and I feel 
 sure the money has not been repaid to him to 
 this day." 
 
 " I don't think Percy will be very cordial. 
 You know what high notions he has." 
 
 " He gets them principally from his mother, 
 who is extremely aristocratic in her ideas." 
 
 " Was she of a high family? " 
 
 Mrs. Barton smiled. 
 
 " Her father was a fisherman," she replied, 
 "and when a girl she used to run barefoot 
 on the sand. Later on she sewed straw for a 
 living. She is no worse for that, certainly, 
 but it doesn't give her any claims to aris- 
 tocracy." 
 
 " Do you think Percy knows about his 
 mother's early life?" 
 
 " I presume she has kept it secret from 
 him." 
 
 " I shall think of it when Percy gets into 
 one of his patronizing moods." 
 
 " Remember, Bert, that neither he nor his 
 mother is any the worse for her humble birth." 
 
 " I understand that, I hope, mother, just as 
 I don't feel ashamed of our being poor." 
 
 " As long as we can make an honorable liv- 
 ing, we have no right to complain."
 
 26 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " That reminds me, mother, that I heard 
 bad news at the shop to-day." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " That the shop is likely to be shut down all 
 next month." 
 
 "Why is that?" asked Mrs. Barton, an 
 anxious look coming over her face. 
 
 " I believe the market is over-supplied with 
 shoes, and it is thought best to suspend tem- 
 porarily. It'll be rather hard on me." 
 
 " Yes, it will," said his mother, gravely. 
 " I earn so little at sewing balls." 
 
 " Don't you think I could get a job at that, 
 mother? " 
 
 " No, you could not do the work satisfac- 
 torily. Besides there are hands enough for 
 all that is required. Well, we must hope for 
 the best." 
 
 " I think I can manage to earn something, 
 mother," said Bert, hopefully. " I'll try 
 hard, anyway." 
 
 " We won't worry till the time comes, Bert." 
 
 An hour later there was a knock at the 
 door. Mrs. Barton answered it in person. 
 
 " Why, Uncle Jacob, is it really you? " she 
 exclaimed, joyfully. 
 
 " I'm delighted to see you, Mary," said the 
 old man, his face lighting up. " I've been 
 waiting twenty-five years for this meeting."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 27 
 
 " Come right in, Uncle Jacob. I can hardly 
 believe it is really you. Now tell me why you 
 have not written these many years." 
 
 " I've no good excuse, Mary, but perhaps I 
 shall think of one bimeby. Now tell me how 
 you are getting along? " 
 
 " I am not rich, as you can see, Uncle 
 Jacob; but as long as Bert and I have our 
 health, and work to do, I shall be contented." 
 
 " Do you know, Mary," said Jacob Mar- 
 lowe, looking about the plain little sitting- 
 room, " I like your hous-e better than Al- 
 bert's? " 
 
 " I don't think you will find many to agree 
 with you." 
 
 " Perhaps not, but this seems like home, 
 and that doesn't." 
 
 " Albert's house is finely furnished." 
 
 " True, and he lives in fine style ; but I don't 
 think I should ever be contented to live with 
 him." 
 
 " Has he invited you? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Jacob ; " but," he added, 
 with a smile, " I don't think the invitation 
 will hold good after to-morrow." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " The fact is, Albert and the whole family 
 think I am rich."
 
 28 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " I shouldn't think they would judge that 
 from your appearance." 
 
 " Oh, they think I am eccentric and plain in 
 r~y tastes, and that I've got my pile safe some- 
 where." 
 
 " I wish you had, Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " Happiness doesn't depend on money, 
 Mary, as you realize in your own case. I am 
 an old man, to be sure, but I am well and 
 strong, and able to work for a living." 
 
 " But at your age, Uncle Jacob, it would be 
 comfortable to feel that you could rest." 
 
 " Come, Mary, don't make me out a patri- 
 arch. I'm only sixty-five, and I can tackle a 
 pretty good day's work yet." 
 
 " You might be sick, Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " Don't let us imagine unpleasant things, 
 Mary. I don't mean to be sick." 
 
 " And at any rate you can come and stay 
 with us. You will always find a home here, 
 though an humble one." 
 
 "Do you really mean that, Mary?" said 
 Uncle Jacob, earnestly. " Would you really 
 be willing to take in the old man, and provide 
 for his comforts? " 
 
 " Of course I would, Uncle Jacob," answered 
 Mrs. Barton, heartily. " I hope you didn't 
 think so poorly of me as to doubt it." 
 
 " No, I was sure you hadn't changed so
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 29 
 
 much since you were a girl. Well, Mary, I 
 may some time remind you of your promise." 
 
 " You won't need to remind me, Uncle 
 Jacob. I was afraid Albert would take you 
 wholly away from us." 
 
 " So he might if I were as rich as he thinks 
 I am ; but now let us talk about other things. 
 Remember, I haven't heard any family news 
 for many years, and I have a great many ques- 
 tions to ask." 
 
 The rest of the evening was spent in such 
 conversation as Uncle Jacob suggested, and 
 when he had occasion to look at his watch, 
 he started in surprise. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " he exclaimed. " It is 
 nearly ten o'clock. I ought to be getting back 
 to Albert's." 
 
 " Then Bert shall accompany you as far as 
 the house. It will be lonely to go alone." 
 
 Uncle Jacob reached Squire Marlowe's 
 house as the church clock struck ten, and he 
 bade Bert good-night. 
 
 Shortly after his return, Uncle Jacob was 
 shown to his room, and being fatigued he soon 
 fell asleep, not waking till seven in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 After breakfast, Squire Marlowe said 
 graciously : " Have you any plans, Uncle 
 Jacob, in which I can assist you? If you
 
 3O Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 wou/d like to consult me about any invest- 
 ments, I can perhaps be of service to you." 
 
 " Now for it ! " thought the old man. 
 
 " I was thinkin', Albert," he said, " of ask- 
 in' your advice. I'm gettin' on in years, and 
 can't work as well as I could once. Do you 
 think it would pay me to open here in Lake- 
 vtllo a cigar and candy store, and " 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Squire Marlowe, with 
 an expression of horror and disgust on his 
 face. 
 
 " You see I've got about five hundred dol- 
 lars, which I think would be enough to stock it 
 comfortably and " 
 
 " But I thought you were a rich man," 
 gasped Squire Marlowe. " Didn't you tell me 
 you had a hundred thousand dollars in a 
 Sacramento bank? " 
 
 " Yes, many years ago; but I bought mining 
 stocks, and after a while they went down to 
 nothing, and " 
 
 " Then you are a pauper ! " said the squire, 
 harshly. 
 
 " No. I have five hundred dollars, and I 
 hope with that to get started, so as to earn an 
 honest living." 
 
 Words cannot describe the scorn and dis- 
 gust that appeared on the faces of Percy and
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 31 
 
 his mother at the old man's confession of 
 poverty. 
 
 " Albert," said the wife, " may I speak with 
 you outside a moment? " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear." 
 
 " Get rid of the old man as soon as you 
 can ! " she said, imperiously. He doesn't 
 eat another meal in my house ! " 
 
 " Be easy, my dear," said the squire. " I'll 
 manage it." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 UNCLE JACOB RECEIVES HIS WALKING PAPEKS. 
 
 SQUIRE MARLOWE returned to the breakfast 
 room, wearing rather an embarrassed expres- 
 sion. Percy had followed his mother, and the 
 old man found himself for a short time alone. 
 There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, 
 which vanished on the reappearance of his 
 nephew. 
 
 " I am sorry to have left you alone, Uncle 
 Jacob," said the squire, civilly. 
 
 " Oh, don't treat me with any ceremony, 
 Albert. Being as we are such near relations, 
 we ought to be free and easy like."
 
 32 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so, for I shall be 
 obliged to treat you unceremoniously." 
 
 " Eh? " said Uncle Jacob, inquiringly. 
 
 " I regret to say that my wife, who is of a 
 very delicate organization, is taken suddenly 
 ill, and I am afraid I shall have to ask you to 
 f.'ut your visit short, and come again some 
 other time." 
 
 " I'm surprised to hear that, Albert. I 
 thought Mrs. Marlowe looked in excellent 
 health." 
 
 " You can't always* tell by outward ap- 
 pearances. She is subject to severe head- 
 aches, and in that condition can't bear the 
 least noise or excitement. That is why I 
 can't invite you to stay any longer." 
 
 " I understand," said Uncle Jacob, with it 
 might have been a little significance in his 
 tone. 
 
 " I have no doubt," went on the squire, 
 " that Mrs. Barton will be glad to have you 
 pay her a short visit. I will get Percy to 
 drive you down there." 
 
 " Thank you," answered the old man, dryly. 
 " but it's only a little way, and I don't mind 
 walking." 
 
 " Just as you prefer," said the squire, re- 
 lieved by Uncle Jacob's declination of his of-
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 33 
 
 fer r for he knew that Percy would not enjoy 
 the trip. 
 
 " I'll get ready to go at once, Albert. Oh, 
 about my plan of opening a cigar store in 
 Lakeville? " 
 
 " I cannot advise you to do it," rejoined the 
 squire, hastily. " You wouldn't make enough 
 to pay your rent, or not much more." 
 
 " Don't the men in your factory smoke? 
 There's a good many of them. If I could get 
 their trade " 
 
 " They smoke pipes for the most part," said 
 the squire, hurriedly. " They'd find cigars 
 too expensive." 
 
 " I meant to combine candy with cigars. 
 That would be a help." 
 
 " They keep candy at the grocery store, 
 Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " I see there isn't much show for me. Now 
 if I only understood your business, you could 
 give me something to do in the factory, Al- 
 bert." 
 
 " But you don't, and, in fact, Uncle Jacob, 
 it's too hard work for a man of your age." 
 
 " Then what would you advise me to do, 
 Albert? " asked the old man, earnestly. 
 
 Squire Marlowe assumed a thoughtful look. 
 Tn fact, he was puzzled to decide how best to 
 get rid of the troublesome old man. To have
 
 34 Vive Hundred Dollars. 
 
 him remain in Lakeville was not to be thought 
 of. He would gladly have got rid of Mrs. 
 Barton and her son, whose relationship to his 
 family was unfortunately known, but there 
 seemed to be no way clear to that without the 
 expenditure of money. To have Uncle Jacob 
 for a neighbor, in addition, would be a source 
 of mortification, not only to himself, but even 
 more to his wife and Percy, whose aristocratic 
 ideas he well knew. 
 
 " I think you -told me you had five hundred 
 dollars," he said, after a pause. 
 
 " About that." 
 
 " Then I really think it would be the best 
 thing you could do to go back to California, 
 where you are known, and where you can 
 doubtless obtain some humble employment 
 which will supply your moderate wants. It 
 won't cost you much for dress " 
 
 " No, Albert ; this coat and vest will, do me 
 for best five years longer." 
 
 " Just so ! That is fortunate. So you see 
 you've only got your board to pay." 
 
 " I might get sick," suggested Uncle Jacob, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " You look pretty healthy. Besides, you'll 
 have part of your five hundred dollars left, 
 you know." 
 
 " That's so ! What a good calculator you
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 35 
 
 are, Albert! Besides, if things came to the 
 worst, there's that five hundred dollars I lent 
 your father twenty-seven years ago. No doubt 
 you'd pay me back, and " 
 
 " I don't know what you refer to," said 
 Squire Marlowe, coldly. 
 
 " Surely you haven't forgot the time when 
 your father was so driven for money, when 
 you were a lad of fifteen, and I let him have 
 all I had except about fifty dollars that I kept 
 for a rainy day." 
 
 " This is news to me, Uncle Jacob," said the 
 squire, with a chilling frown. " You must 
 excuse me for saying that I think you labor 
 under a delusion." 
 
 Uncle Jacob surveyed his neighbor intently, 
 with a gaze which disconcerted him in spite of 
 his assurance. 
 
 " Fortunately, I am able to prove what I 
 say," he rejoined, after a slight pause. 
 
 He drew from his pocket a wallet which 
 bore the signs of long wear, and, opening it, 
 deliberately drew out a folded sheet of note 
 paper, grown yellow with age and brittle with 
 much handling. Then, adjusting his spec- 
 tacles, he added : " Here's something I'd like 
 to read to you, Albert. It's written by your 
 father :
 
 36 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 MY DEAR JACOB: 
 
 I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you 
 for lending me the five hundred dollars I so 
 urgently need. I know it is very nearly, if 
 not quite, all you possess in the world, and 
 that you can ill spare it. It will save me from 
 failure, and sometime I hope to repay it to 
 you. If I cannot, I will ask my son Albert to 
 do so when he is able. I don't want you to 
 lose by your kindness to me. 
 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 
 CHARLES MARLOWE. 
 
 "You can see the signature, Albert. You 
 know your father's handwriting, don't you?" 
 
 Squire Marlowe reluctantly took the paper 
 and glanced at it. 
 
 " It may be my father's writing," he said. 
 
 "May be!" repeated the old man, indig- 
 nantly. "What do you mean by that?" 
 
 " I dare say it is. In fact, I remember his 
 mentioning the matter to me before he died." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 " That it was quite a favor to him, the loan, 
 but that he repaid it within three years from 
 the time he received it." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Uncle Jacob, pushing 
 his spectacles up, in his amazement " Your 
 father said that?"
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 37 
 
 " Yes, he did," answered Albert Marlowe, 
 with unabashed effrontery. 
 
 " That he paid back the five hundred dollars 
 I lent him?" 
 
 " That's what I said," repeated the squire, 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Then it's a lie not of my brother's, but 
 of somebody's. That money remains unpaid 
 to this day." 
 
 Squire Marlowe shrugged his shoulders. 
 " No doubt you think so," he said, " but you 
 are growing old, and old people are forgetful. 
 That is the most charitable view to take of 
 your statement." 
 
 " I wouldn't have believed this, Albert," 
 said the old man, sorrowfully. " And you a 
 rich man, too! I don't mind the money. I 
 can get along without it. But to be told that 
 I am claiming what has already been repaid ! " 
 
 " I don't lay it up against you," went on the 
 squire, smoothly. " I've no doubt you have 
 forgotten the payment of the debt, and " 
 
 " I don't forget so easily, though I am sixty- 
 five. Don't fear that I shall ask for it again 
 indeed, I haven't asked for it at all but I 
 shall not forget how you have treated my 
 claim. Of course it amounts to nothing in 
 law it's outlawed long ago but I only wish
 
 38 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 my poor brother were alive to disprove your 
 words." 
 
 Even Albert Marlowe was shamed by the 
 old man's sorrowful dignity. 
 
 " We can't agree about that, Uncle Jacob," 
 he said ; " but if ever you get very hard up, let 
 me know, and I'll see if I can't help you 
 in a small way." 
 
 " You are very kind," answered the old man, 
 " but I don't think that time will come. As 
 you say, my wants are few, and I am still able 
 to work. I'll go up to my room and get my 
 valise, and then I'll go over to Mary Bar- 
 ton's." 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! I've got rid of him," 
 mused the squire, as from the doorway he saw 
 Uncle Jacob walking slowly down the street. 
 " I was afraid he'd mention that money he 
 lent father. With twenty-seven years' inter- 
 est it would amount to a good deal of money 
 more than I could well spare. I don't think 
 I shall hear from it again." 
 
 "Has he gone, Albert?" asked Mrs. Mar- 
 lowe, returning to the breakfast-room. 
 
 " Yes ; I told him you were indisposed, and 
 couldn't stand excitement." 
 
 " No matter what you told him, as long as 
 we are rid of him."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 39 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER \i 
 i 
 
 SQUIRE MARLOWE IS SURPRISED. 
 
 MRS. BARTON was washing the breakfast 
 dishes, and was alone, Bert having gone to 
 his daily work at the shoe shop, when the 
 outer door opened and Uncle Jacob entered 
 the cottage, valise in hand. 
 
 " I've accepted your offer sooner than yon 
 expected, Mary," he said. 
 
 " You are heartily welcome, Uncle Jacob," 
 responded his niece, with evident sincerity. 
 " If you can put up with our poor accommoda- 
 tions after being entertained in Albert's lux- 
 urious home " 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself about that, Mary," 
 interrupted the old man. " Albert doesn't 
 want me. He civilly asked me to find another 
 stopping place." 
 
 " You don't mean it ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bar- 
 ton indignantly. 
 
 " You see," explained Uncle Jacob, with a 
 quiet smile, " his wife was taken suddenly in- 
 disposed after she found I wasn't as rich as 
 she expected." 
 
 " I hope you won't take it too much to heart, 
 Uncle Jacob," observed Mary Barton, in a 
 tone of solicitude.
 
 4O Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Uncle Jacob's amused laugh reassured her. 
 
 " It is just what I expected, Mary," he said, 
 " and I shan't grieve over it much. You ought 
 to have seen how they all looked when I asked 
 Albert's advice about opening a small cigar 
 and candy store in the village. You can 
 imagine what a mortification it would be to 
 my high-toned nephew to have my sign out, 
 
 JACOB MARLOWE, 
 Candy and Cigars. 
 
 over a small seven by nine store, when our 
 relationship was known." 
 
 " I hope that won't prevent your carrying 
 out the plan, Uncle Jacob. If your gains are 
 small, you can make your home with us and 
 pay what you can afford." 
 
 " Thank you, Mary, you are a true friend, 
 and I shan't forget your kind offer. But I 
 never had the slightest idea of opening such a 
 store. I only mentioned it to test Albert." 
 
 " But you will have to do something, Uncle 
 Jacob," said Mary Barton, perplexed ; " and 
 that would be as easy as anything. Bert could 
 go in the evening and help you if you found it 
 too confining." 
 
 " I have something else in view in the city," 
 returned Jacob. " I don't need to earn much 
 you know. I don't set up to be a dude," he
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 41 
 
 added, with a comical glance at his rustic at- 
 tire, " and I don't mean to board at the Fifth 
 Avenue Hotel." 
 
 " I am sorry you can't stay in Lakeville," 
 said Mrs. Barton regretfully. 
 
 " I will stay here a week, Mary, to get ac- 
 quainted with you and your boy. I have taken 
 a fancy to him. He is a fine, manly youth, 
 worth a dozen of such fellows as Percy Mar- 
 lowe." 
 
 " Indeed, he is a good boy," said his mother 
 proudly. " I don't see what I could do with- 
 out him." 
 
 " So, Mary, if you'll show me where you are 
 going to accommodate me, I'll go up and take 
 possession." 
 
 " Will you mind my putting you in with 
 Bert? I have but two chambers." 
 
 " Not a bit. It will be all the better. If I 
 were going to stay here permanently I would 
 build an extension to the house for you." 
 
 " But that would be expensive, Uncle 
 Jacob." 
 
 " So it would. I'm always forgetting that 
 I am not a rich man. You see I was rich 
 once. As I told Albert, I have seen the time 
 when I had a hundred thousand dollars to my 
 credit in a bank of Sacramento." 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Jacob ! Why didn't you invest
 
 42 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 it in government bonds, and you would have 
 been independent for life? " 
 
 " Because I was not so prudent as my niece, 
 I suppose. However, it's no use crying over 
 spilt milk, and I've got a matter of five hun- 
 dred dollars left." 
 
 " But that won't last long, Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " Not unless I work. But I'm pretty rugged 
 yet, and I guess I can manage to scrape along." 
 
 When Bert came home to dinner, he was sur- 
 prised and pleased to find Uncle Jacob in- 
 stalled and evidently feeling quite at home. 
 
 " I wish I could stay at home this afternoon 
 to keep you company," he said ; " but I have 
 only an hour for dinner." 
 
 " Business first, my boy ! " said the old man. 
 " For pleasure we'll wait till this evening. Is 
 there a livery stable in the village? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; Houghton's." 
 
 " Then after supper we'll hire a buggy, and 
 you and your mother and I will take a ride." 
 
 " But, Uncle Jacob, you forget that it will 
 cost a dollar, or perhaps two." 
 
 " No, I don't, Mary ; but I'm having a vaca 
 tion, and I want to enjoy myself a little be 
 fore pitching into hard work again. I am 
 sure you will be the better for a ride." 
 
 " Yes, I shall. I haven't had one for 
 months, and it will be a real treat."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 43 
 
 " Then we will cast prudence to the winds 
 for once, and have a good time. I suppose 
 you can drive, Bert." 
 
 " Oh yes, sir ; I like it. I worked for a few 
 weeks in the grocery store, and drove every 
 day. I like a horse." 
 
 " So do I ; but I don't care much about 
 handling the reins myself. You'll promise not 
 to upset the carriage, as Percy did the other 
 day?" 
 
 " Not unless we meet two tramps, as he 
 did," said Bert, laughing. 
 
 " I declare, Mary, there is your boy calling 
 his old uncle a tramp." 
 
 " And myself, too, uncle." 
 
 " That makes it seem a little better. Are 
 you going back to the shop? " 
 
 " Yes, uncle; my time is up." 
 
 " I'll walk along with you." 
 
 As the two walked together, Uncle Jacob 
 took a five dollar bill from his pocket, and 
 handed it to Bert. 
 
 " There, Bert," he said, " I want you to give 
 that to your mother toward buying groceries 
 and meat this week, as her expenses will be 
 increased by my being in the house." 
 
 " But, Uncle Jacob, we don't want you to 
 pay board."
 
 44 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " I am able to do it, and prefer it, Bert. So 
 say no more about it." 
 
 In truth, this donation was a relief to Bert 
 and his mother, for they were compelled to 
 economize closely, and yet wanted to live well 
 while Uncle Jacob was visiting them. 
 
 About seven o'clock Bert drove round to the 
 house in a handsome top buggy, drawn by a 
 spirited black horse, the best in Houghtou's 
 stable. 
 
 " I'll let you have it, Bert," said Mr. Hough- 
 ton, " because I know you're a careful driver. 
 There are few persons I would trust with 
 Prince." 
 
 " You may depend on me, Mr. Houghton." 
 " I know I can, Bert ; " and with a few di- 
 rections the stable keeper resigned the turn- 
 out to Bert. 
 
 " You have got a stylish rig, Bert," said 
 Uncle Jacob. " I think we shall have to drive 
 by Albert Marlowe's." 
 
 " Just what I would like," remarked Bert, 
 with a smile. 
 
 Bert had his share of human nature, and 
 rather enjoyed being seen by his aristocratic 
 relatives in such a stylish turnout. 
 
 Supper was over at Squire Marlowe's and 
 the family were sitting on the piazza, the even-
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 45 
 
 ing being warm, when Percy espied the buggy 
 approaching. 
 
 " I wonder who's driving Houghton's best 
 team? " he said. 
 
 " By gracious, if it isn't Bert Barton and 
 his mother and Uncle Jacob!" he exclaimed, 
 a minute later. 
 
 The squire adjusted his eyeglasses, and 
 looked at the carriage now nearly opposite. 
 
 " You are right, Percy," he said. 
 
 " What can it mean, Albert? " a^ked his 
 wife, in bewilderment, as Uncle Jacob bowed 
 from the buggy. 
 
 " It means that a fool and his money are 
 soon parted," answered the squire. 
 
 " I thought your uncle was poor." 
 
 " So he is, and he will soon be poorer from 
 all appearances. Uncle Jacob never was a 
 good financial manager. He was always too 
 liberal, or he wouldn't be as poor as he is now. 
 Why with five hundred dollars he probably 
 feels as rich as a nabob." 
 
 " No doubt Bert Barton will help him spend 
 it," said Percy. " It won't last long at any 
 rate, if he drives out every evening." 
 
 " When his money is all gone he will prob- 
 ably throw himself on you for support, 
 father." 
 
 " I wash my hands of him," said Squire
 
 46 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Marlowe, in a hard tone. " If be squanders 
 his money, he must take the consequences." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you speak in that way, 
 Albert/' commented his wife, approvingly. 
 
 Uncle Jacob enjoyed his drive and paid 
 two dollars at the stable without letting the 
 thought of his extravagance worry him. 
 
 " I hope you enjoyed it, Mary," he said. 
 
 " I don't know when I have enjoyed myself 
 so much, Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " Nor I," put in Bert. 
 
 " Then I think the money well spent. It 
 makes me feel young again, Mary. I think I 
 made a mistake in staying away so long." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 UNCLE JACOB LEAVES LAKEVILLE. 
 
 ON his way home to dinner the next day, 
 Bert fell in with Percy Marlowe. 
 
 " I saw you out driving last evening," re- 
 marked Percy. 
 
 " Yes," answered Bert composedly. 
 
 "You had Houghton's best team?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How much did you have to pay? " 
 
 " I believe Uncle Jacob paid two dollars." 
 
 " He must be crazy to pay two dollars for 
 a ride. Why, he's almost a pauper."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 47 
 
 " I think that is his business, Percy. As to 
 being a pauper, I don't believe he will ever be 
 that." 
 
 " Don't be too sure of it. Why, he told 
 father he had only five hundred dollars. How 
 long do you think that's going to last him if 
 he throws away his money on carriage rides? " 
 
 " It's only for once, and, as I said, that 
 isn't our business." 
 
 " I don't know about that, either. When 
 toe has spent all his money he'll be coming 
 upon father to support him." 
 
 " I don't believe he will," said Bert, to 
 whom it was disagreeable to hear the kind old 
 man spoken of slightingly. 
 
 " You see if he doesn't. But it won't do any 
 good. Father says as he makes his bed he 
 must lie on it. And I say, Bert Barton, it 
 isn't very creditable to you and your mother 
 to help the old man squander his money." 
 
 " I don't thank you for your advice, Percy 
 Marlowe," retorted Bert, with spirit. " If 
 ever Uncle Jacob does come to want, I'll work 
 for him, and help him all I can." 
 
 " You ! why you're as poor as poverty it- 
 self ! " exclaimed Percy, with a mocking laugh. 
 
 " Good morning ! " said Bert shortly, pro- 
 voked, but not caring to prolong the discus- 
 sion.
 
 48 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 When he reached home, he gave Uncle 
 Jacob an account of his conversation with 
 Percy. 
 
 The old man laughed. 
 
 " So Albert says that as I make my bed I 
 must lie upon it?" he repeated. 
 
 " Yes, sir; but I hope you won't be troubled 
 at that. You will always be welcome here." 
 
 Uncle Jacob's eyes grew moist, and he re- 
 garded Bert with affection. 
 
 " You are a good boy and a true friend, 
 Bert," he said, " and I shall not forget it." 
 
 " I don't know but Percy was right, Uncle 
 Jacob. It does seem extravagant paying such 
 a price for a ride." 
 
 " It's only for once in a way, Bert. You 
 mustn't grudge the old man a little enjoyment 
 in his vacation. I shall be going to work next 
 week." 
 
 "You will? Where?" asked Bert eagerly. 
 
 " In New York. An old California friend 
 of mine, who is in charge of a mine that has 
 been put on the New York market, will give 
 me a clerkship and a small salary which will 
 support me in comfort. So you see I am all 
 right." 
 
 " I am very glad to hear it, Uncle Jacob," 
 said Bert joyfully. "I was afraid you
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 49 
 
 wouldn't find anything to do, and would have 
 to spend all your money on living." 
 
 " Come, Bert, that isn't much of a compli- 
 ment to my ability. If I am sixty-five, I am 
 able to earn a living yet, and though twelve 
 dollars a week isn't much " 
 
 " If I could earn twelve dollars a week I 
 should feel rich, Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " True, but you are only fifteen." 
 
 "Almost sixteen." 
 
 " I forgot that," said Uncle Jacob, smiling. 
 " Well, even at sixteen, a boy can hardly ex- 
 pect to earn as much as twelve dollars a week. 
 By the way, how much does Albert pay you? " 
 
 " Four dollars a week." 
 
 " Is that about the usual price for boys 
 employed as you are? " 
 
 " Most shoe bosses pay more. The squire 
 pays low wages all round." 
 
 " Then why don't the men go elsewhere? " 
 
 " Because they live here, and it is better 
 to work cheaper here than to move. Some 
 have gone away." 
 
 " Well, keep up your courage, Bert, and the 
 time will come when you will be earning 
 twelve dollars a week like your rich old uncle. 
 If the office were only in Lakeville, so that I 
 could board with your mother " 
 
 " I wish it was, Uncle Jacob."
 
 5o Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Well, Mary, I shan't have to open a cigar 
 store in Lakeville," remarked Uncle Jacob, as 
 his niece entered the room. 
 
 Mrs. Barton looked an inquiry, and Bert 
 exclaimed : " Uncle Jacob has secured a clerk- 
 ship in New York at twelve dollars a week." 
 
 " I am really glad ! " said Mrs. Barton, with 
 beaming face. 
 
 " Come, Mary, did you too think, like Bert 
 here, that I was headed for the poorhouse? " 
 
 " I felt a little anxious for you, Uncle Jacob, 
 I admit." 
 
 " You see that your fears were idle." 
 
 " Will you have to work very hard? " asked 
 Mrs. Barton. 
 
 " No ; my employer is an intimate friend." 
 
 " When do you commence work? " 
 
 " Next Monday, so that I must leave you on 
 Saturday." 
 
 " Bert and I will both miss you ; but as it 
 is for your good, we won't complain. Now, 
 Uncle Jacob, I .hope you won't take it amiss if 
 I urge you not to be too free with your money, 
 but to try to save up some of your salary so 
 that you can add to your little fund." 
 
 " Thank you, Mary. I suppose you a*e 
 afraid I will be driving fast 'horses in Central i 
 Park, eh?" 
 
 " I am more afraid you will be too generous
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 51 
 
 with jour money, and give away more than 
 you can afford." 
 
 " Weil thought of, Mary ! So far from that, 
 I am going to turn miser and hoard up every 
 cent I can." 
 
 " I don't think there is much danger of 
 that" 
 
 " Oh, you have no idea how mean I can be if 
 I try. However, as I shall be acting according 
 to your advice, you can't find fault with me." 
 
 " I see you don't mean to follow my advice, 
 Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " Sill I am glad you gave it. It shows that 
 you feel a real interest in your shabby old 
 uncle. Some time I can't promise how soon 
 I shall invite you and Bert to come and 
 spend the day in New York. I will get a day 
 off from the office, and we'll have a nice excur- 
 sion somewhere." 
 
 On Friday, Uncle Jacob called on Squire 
 Marlowe; not at the house, however, but at 
 the factory. 
 
 " I've come to bid you good-by, Albert," he 
 said. 
 
 " Are you going back to California? " asked 
 the Squire. 
 
 " No, I am going to New York." 
 
 " It is expensive living in New York." 
 
 " I have obtained a situation
 
 52 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 "Ah, indeed! That is different. What 
 sort of a position?" 
 
 " I hall be a clerk in a mining office." 
 
 " What pay will you get? " 
 
 " Twelve dollars a week." 
 
 "Very fair! I congratulate you. You 
 ought to live on that and save money besides." 
 
 " That's what Mary Barton says." 
 
 " Then she gives you very sensible advice. 
 It will be a great deal better than opening a 
 cigar store in Lakeville." 
 
 " I wouldn't do that after what you said on 
 the subject," returned Uncle Jacob in a defer- 
 ential tone, though there was a twinkle in his 
 eye. 
 
 " I am glad you recognize the fact that I 
 counseled you for your good," said the Squire 
 pompously. "As an experienced business 
 man, my judgment is worth something, I ap- 
 prehend." 
 
 "Quite so, Albert; quite so! Is your wife 
 feeling better?" 
 
 (Uncle Jacob had seen Mrs. Marlowe rid- 
 ing out the day before, apparently in full 
 health.) 
 
 " She is somewhat improved, but still deli- 
 cate," said Squire Marlowe guardedly. " I 
 am sorry I cannot invite you to dine with us 
 again before you go to the city."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 53 
 
 " I should hardly be able to do so, as I go 
 away to-morrow." 
 
 " Just so ! I will say good-by for you, and 
 that will do just as well." 
 
 " That's a load off my mind ! " soliloquized 
 the squire, after Uncle Jacob 'had left him. 
 " I was afraid the old man would squander 
 all his money, and then come upon me for that 
 old loan. I hope he'll keep away from Lake- 
 ville in the future." 
 
 The next day Uncle Jacob left town. As he 
 quitted the house, he put a sealed envelope 
 into Mary Barton's hand. 
 
 "If you are ever in trouble, and cannot com- 
 municate with me," he said, " open this enve- 
 lope. Take good care of it!" 
 
 " I will, Uncle Jacob. I will put it away in 
 my trunk." 
 
 " Well, good-by, Mary, and God bless you ! " 
 
 A minute later and Uncle Jacob was gone. 
 Mrs. Barton went back to covering balls and 
 Bert to his place in the shoe shop. Their 
 united earnings enabled them to live comfort- 
 ably, and they were content, though they had 
 nothing to spare. But trouble was close at 
 hand, though they did not suspect it. 
 
 What that trouble was will be disclosed in 
 the next chapter.
 
 54 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DISCHARGED. 
 
 THREE days later, while on his way to the 
 factory, Bert overtook Luke Crandall, who 
 was employed like himself in pegging shoes. 
 
 " Have you heard the news, Bert? " asked 
 his friend. 
 
 "No; what is it?" 
 
 "All the peggers are to be discharged; you 
 and I, and the two other boys.'* 
 
 " Is that true? " asked Bert, stopping short, 
 and surveying his friend with a look of dis- 
 may. 
 
 "Yes; I wish it wasn't." 
 
 "What is the reason?" 
 
 " The squire has bought a pegging machine, 
 and he has hired a man from out of town to 
 run it. So he will have no need of us." 
 
 " How soon is he going to put it in? " asked 
 Bert, with a sinking heart. 
 
 " Next Monday. At the end of this week 
 we shall be discharged." 
 
 " What are you going to do? " Bert in- 
 quired, after a pause. 
 
 " I shall be all right. I have an uncle who 
 keeps a store in Bradford, and I am going 
 there to tend in the store, and shall board in 
 the family. What shall you do? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 55 
 
 " I don't know,'' answered Bert soberly. 
 " This has come on me so suddenly, that I 
 haven't had time to think." 
 
 " There's precious little chance for a boy in 
 Lakeville, unless he goes to work on a farm." 
 
 " I don't even know if there is a chance to 
 do that. All the farmers are supplied, with 
 help. Besides, they generally pay a boy in 
 his board and clothes, and I need money to 
 help support my mother." 
 
 " Isn't old Marlowe your uncle? " 
 
 " No, but he is my mother's cousin." 
 
 " Then he ought to do something for you 
 out of relationship." 
 
 " I don't expect it," answered Bert. " He 
 appears to feel very little interest in us." 
 
 They had reached the factory, and entering, 
 were soon at work. Before noon the bad news 
 was confirmed, and the boys were informed 
 that their services would not be required after 
 Saturday night. 
 
 At dinner Bert informed his mother, and 
 
 ] ehe too was dismayed. It was a calamity she 
 
 had never dreamed of. She supposed Bert 
 
 was sure of continued employment in pegging 
 
 till he was old enough to be employed in some 
 
 other part of the business. 
 
 " I don't see what we shall do, Bert," she 
 said. " There is no other shop in Lakeville.
 
 56 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 If there were, you might get a chance there." 
 
 " There is no business of any kind here out- 
 side of Marlowe's shop." 
 
 " True. What are the other boys going to 
 do?" 
 
 " Luke Crandall is going into his uncle's 
 shop at Bradford, and the other two boys talk 
 of leaving town." 
 
 " I do think Albert Marlowe might find 
 some place for you. We are near relations, 
 and he knows how I depend on your earn- 
 ings." 
 
 " He isn't a man to consider that, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Barton was silent, but she determined 
 to make an application to her cousin in Bert's 
 behalf. Accordingly, in the evening, she said 
 to him. " Bert, I am going out to make a call. 
 I would like to have you look after the house 
 while I am gone." 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Barton did not venture to let Bert 
 know of her intention, for he would have done 
 his best to prevent her applying to the squire 
 for a special favor. Perhaps he was too proud, 
 but it was an honorable pride. Besides, he 
 knew very well that the appeal was likely to 
 prove ineffectual. 
 
 With a faltering step Mrs. Barton advanced 
 and rang the bell of her cousin's 1 handsome
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 57 
 
 /louse. It was a call from which she shrank, 
 but she was spurred by necessity. 
 
 " Is Mr. Marlowe in? " she inquired. 
 
 " I will see, ma'am." 
 
 Squire Marlowe was at home, and she was 
 ushered into his presence. 
 
 Albert Marlowe was not, on the whole, sur- 
 prised to see his cousin. He guessed the 
 errand that brought her, and he frowned 
 slightly as she entered the room. 
 
 " Good evening," he said, in a distant tone. 
 " I hope you are well." 
 
 " Well in health, but anxious in mind, Al 
 bert," she said. " Bert tells me that he has 
 been discharged from the shop." 
 
 " Yes, but he is not the only one. There aru 
 three other boys." 
 
 " It has come upon us like a thunderbolt. I 
 had no idea that he was in any danger of los- 
 ing his place." 
 
 " I have nothing against your son, Mrs. Bar- 
 ton. It is a business necessity that compels 
 me to dispense with his services." 
 
 " Why a business necessity? " 
 
 " You may have heard that I intend to in- 
 troduce a pegging machine. It will do the 
 work cheaper and more effectually than under 
 the present system." 
 
 " Oh, why couldn't you have let matters re-
 
 58 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 main as they were? You may gain something, 
 but you are depriving the boys of their liveli- 
 hood." 
 
 " You don't regard the matter in a business 
 light, Mrs. Barton. I must keep up with the 
 times. Other manufacturers are making the 
 change, and I should stand in my own light if 
 I adhered to the old-fashioned system." 
 
 " I don't pretend to know about business, 
 Albert, but I do know that in dismissing Bert 
 you deprive us of more than half our income, 
 and Heaven knows we need it all." 
 
 " Your son can find something else to do." 
 
 " What is there for him to do in Lakeville? 
 I shall be grateful if you will suggest any- 
 thing." 
 
 " No doubt he can get a chance to work on a 
 farm." 
 
 " I know of no farmer who needs his ser- 
 vices, and even if there were one he would not 
 get money for his services, and that is what 
 we want." 
 
 " Of course farming isn't the only thing," 
 said the squire vaguely. " If he looks round 
 sharp he will come across something " 
 
 Mrs. Barton shook her head. 
 
 " You know how little business there is in 
 Lakeville," she answered. " Isn't there some
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 59 
 
 other department in the factory in which you 
 can employ him?" 
 
 Squire Marlowe shook his head. 
 
 " He is too young for any other work," he 
 said. 
 
 " Then what are we to do? " 
 
 " Oh, you'll think of something," said the 
 squire indefinitely. " He is to be in the shop 
 the rest of the week, and that will give you 
 time to think the matter over." 
 
 " Then you can't hold out any hope ! " said 
 Mrs. Barton mournfully. 
 
 " No, but you mustn't be despondent. 
 Something will turn up." 
 
 Mrs. Barton was silent, and her sad face 
 made the squire vaguely uncomfortable. He 
 wished she would go. 
 
 " Mrs. Marlowe is not feeling well this even- 
 ing," he said awkwardly, " or I would invite 
 you to meet her. Some other evening " 
 
 " I am not in the mood to meet any one 
 to-night, Albert," she said. " I will be going," 
 and she rose from her chair and moved toward 
 the door. 
 
 " Good-evening, then. I am glad to have 
 seen you." 
 
 Mrs. Barton did not reply to the compli- 
 ment. Her heart was too full of sorrow to 
 respond to what she knew to be insincere and
 
 60 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 unmeaning. She understood very well that 
 Albert Marlowe was glad to be rid of her. 
 
 " How unreasonable women are ! " muttered 
 Squire Marlowe, impatiently, as he closed the 
 door upon his unwelcome guest. " Mary Bar- 
 ton would have had me postpone all improve- 
 ments in my shop for the sake of keeping that 
 boy of hers in his place. Business consider- 
 ations are as nothing to women. They are so 
 unpractical." 
 
 Mrs. Barton walked homeward slowly, mus- 
 ing bitterly on her cousin's want of feeling. 
 
 "How cold-hearted he is!" she murmured. 
 " He evidently cares nothing for our needs, or 
 the prospect of our hardships. He lives in a 
 fine house, and rears his family in luxury, 
 while Bert and I are likely to want even the 
 necessaries of life." 
 
 Perhaps Mrs. Barton was a little too de- 
 spondent. Perhaps she ought to have had 
 more trust in Providence; but there had been 
 sorrows in her life which had robbed her of 
 her natural hopefulness, and she was no 
 longer as courageous in the face of threatening 
 misfortune as she had once been. 
 
 She had nearly reached home when, from 
 out of the darkness, a man's figure advanced 
 from the roadside and laid his hand upon her 
 arm.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 61 
 
 " Who are you ! " she asked faintly, sup- 
 pressing a scream. 
 
 " Don't be frightened, Mary," was the reply, 
 " I am your husband, Simeon Barton." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MRS. BARTON'S SECRET. 
 
 MRS. BARTON staggered, and would have 
 fallen, had not the other held her up. " You 
 here," she exclaimed, in amazement, "after 
 being absent so many years? " 
 
 "Yes; it has been a cruel exile. We have 
 been very unfortunate." 
 
 " Where have you been these last ten years, 
 Simeon?" 
 
 " For the last eight years in Canada." 
 
 "And you did not write me? " 
 
 "No; I feared it would set officers on my 
 track. I have heard from you now and then, 
 indirectly. Have you suffered much?" 
 
 " It has been a weary time. It would have 
 been easier to bear if I ha heard from you." 
 
 " A letter from Canada would have been 
 sure to attract attention and invite comment. 
 Besides, I had no money to send you. Mis- 
 fortune has pursued me, and I have only been 
 able to support myself. When I think of the
 
 62 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 probable author of my misfortunes, I own it 
 has made me feel revengeful." 
 
 "To whom do you refer, Simeon?" 
 
 " To Albert Marlowe." 
 
 "What do you mean? How is he responsi- 
 ble for your misfortune? " 
 
 " I will tell you. I believe that it was he 
 who stole the bonds, the loss of which was im- 
 puted to me." 
 
 " Is it possible that you have any proof of 
 this? " asked Mary Barton eagerly. " The 
 bond that was found in your possession " 
 
 " Was placed in my overcoat pocket for the 
 express purpose of throwing suspicion upon 
 me. You remember that it was a bond for 
 five hundred dollars, while the amount stolen 
 was six thousand." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Albert and I were both at work in the 
 same establishment. We were on a level, so 
 far as means are concerned." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Now he is a rich man," added Simeon Bar- 
 ton significantly. 
 
 "Yes*; he is considered worth thirty thou- 
 sand dollars." 
 
 " It was the stolen money that gave him hia 
 start, I verily believe."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 63 
 
 " He did not start in business for himself 
 for more than a year after the trouble." 
 
 "No; for he thought it would invite suspi- 
 cion. I have reason to think that he disposed 
 of the bonds in Canada, and with the proceeds 
 started in as a manufacturer. How otherwise 
 could he have done so? He was only earning 
 two dollars a day when we were working to- 
 gether, and it cost him all of that to support 
 his family.'' 
 
 " I have often wondered where he obtained 
 money to go into business." 
 
 " I don't think there is any mystery about 
 it." 
 
 " And you have been compelled to bear the 
 consequences of his wrong-doing while he has 
 been living in luxury?" said Mary Barton 
 bitterly. 
 
 "Yes; but mine is not a solitary case. 
 Wickedness often flourishes in this world. We 
 must look to the future for compensation." 
 
 " Do you think you will ever be able to 
 prove your innocence, Simeoa?" 
 
 " It is all that I live for. If I can do that, 
 we can live together again. But tell me, be- 
 fore I go any further, how are you and the 
 boy getting along? " 
 
 " We are comfortable," answered Mary Bar- 
 toQ briefly. She did not care to add to her
 
 64 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 husband's anxieties by speaking of Bert's dis- 
 charge. 
 
 " I wish I had some money to give you, but 
 I only had enough to bring me here and re- 
 turn." 
 
 "You had an object in coming?" 
 
 " Yes ; there was a man who was employed 
 by Weeks Brothers at the time of the loss of 
 the bonds. I learned some months since it is 
 not necessary to explain how that he could 
 turow light on the long unsolved mystery 
 that he knew the real thief. I am in search of 
 him. Some time I hope to find him, and make 
 clear my innocence by the aid of his testi- 
 mony." 
 
 " Oh, Simeon, if you only could ! " ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Barton, clasping her hands. 
 
 " I shall try, at all events." 
 
 " I wonder if it would not be well to consult 
 Uncle Jacob?" 
 
 " Uncle Jacob ! " repeated Simeon Barton in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Yes; I have not told you. He has re- 
 turned from California, and is now in New 
 York." 
 
 " Have you seen him? " 
 
 " Yes ; be spent a week at our house." 
 
 Mrs. Barton went on to give the particulars 
 ot Uncle Jacob's visi^.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 65 
 
 " He is a poor man," she concluded. " As 
 I understand, he brought home but five hun- 
 dred dollars, but he is lucky enough to be em- 
 ployed in an office in New York at a salary of 
 twelve dollars a week." 
 
 " If I were earning that, and could hold up 
 my head an honest man, without a stain 
 an undeserved stain upon my name, I should 
 be happy." 
 
 " Can you tell me Uncle Jacob's address? " 
 he asked, after a pause. " I don't think I 
 shall venture to call upon him, for I am sub- 
 ject to arrest on the old charge, as you know, 
 and the New York detectives are sharp, but I 
 might write to him and ask his advice. But 
 stay ! he thinks 1 me dead, does he not? " 
 
 yes." 
 
 " And Bert is that what you still call him? 
 he still thinks that he has no father liv- 
 ing? " 
 
 " You wished it so, Simeon." 
 
 " Yes ; but the time may come when the 
 secret can be revealed to him. I may disclose 
 myself to Uncle Jacob. I don't remember him 
 very well, but " 
 
 " He is the best and kindest of men. I wish, 
 he could have found employment here." 
 
 " Did he visit Albert? " 
 
 " Yes; he remained at his house one night."
 
 66 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Was he well received? " 
 
 "At first; for, coming from California, Al- 
 bert supposed him rich. When he found he 
 had but five hundred dollars, he lost no time 
 in turning him out of the house." 
 
 " Poor Uncle Jacob ! It must have hurt the 
 old man's feelings." 
 
 " I feared it would, but he only seemed 
 amused not at all offended." 
 
 " He has seen so much of the world that he 
 probably expected it. The old man seemed in 
 good spirits, then?" 
 
 " Yes ; he declared that he was well able to 
 earn his own living still, though he is sixty- 
 five, and was as gay and cheerful as a young 
 man. He insisted on paying his board while 
 he was with us." 
 
 " There is nothing mean about Uncle 
 Jacob." 
 
 " No ; and it is a mystery to me why such 
 men as he, who would make so good use of 
 riches, should almost always be poor." 
 
 "And men like Albert Marlowe are rich." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " There are a good many things that are dif- 
 ficult to make out. Where are you going to 
 stay to-night, Simeon?" she asked, after a 
 pause.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 67 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 " I wish I could invite yon to the house 
 where you have the best right to be." 
 
 " I wish so, too." 
 
 " Bert doesn't know that you are alive. 
 Perhaps I might introduce you as an old 
 friend of his father." 
 
 " If you think it would do. He would not 
 speak of your having a visitor? " 
 
 " Not if I told him not to do so." 
 
 " You have tempted me strongly, Mary. I 
 should like to see our boy, to see with my own 
 eyes how he is looking at fifteen. And it 
 would be a comfort to rest once more beneath 
 the same roof as the wife from whom I have 
 been so long separated.'* 
 
 " I think we can risk it, Simeon. I must in- 
 troduce you under another name." 
 
 " Call me Robinson. That is the name I 
 have borne for some years past." 
 
 "Mother!" was heard from a little dis- 
 tance. 
 
 " Bert has come out in search of me, being 
 alarmed by my long absence. Now, be on 
 your guard." 
 
 " Is that you, mother? Where have you 
 been so long? I got quite anxious about you." 
 
 " I met an old friend of your father, Bert, 
 and in talking with him I forgot how time was
 
 68 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 passing. Mr. Robinson, this is my son Her- 
 bert." 
 
 Bert greeted the stranger politely. As his 
 hand rested for a moment in the hand of Mr. 
 Robinson, he felt the latter tremble. 
 
 " Do you remember your father, Herbert? " 
 asked the supposed stranger. 
 
 " Not very well. He died when I was quite 
 a young boy." 
 
 " True ! It was indeed a long time since," 
 murmured Robinson, with a sigh. 
 
 " Bert, I have invited Mr. Robinson to stay 
 with us to-night. It is long since I have seen 
 him and we may not meet again for some time. 
 He will share your room." 
 
 " Certainly, mother." 
 
 They went together to the cottage. Mrs. 
 Barton prepared some tea, and they sat down 
 to a slight meal. 
 
 "Oh, if it could only continue thus!" 
 thought Simeon Barton, as he looked wistfully 
 at the wife and son from whom he had been so 
 long separated. "It is like a sight of the 
 promised land." 
 
 " Do you know my mother's cousin, Al- 
 bert Marlowe? " asked Bert, during the 
 evening. 
 
 " I used to know him some years ago."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 6Q 
 
 " Shall you call upon him? He is a rich 
 man now." 
 
 " I think not I never liked him much." 
 
 Bert laughed. 
 
 "Ditto for me!" he said. "He is a cold, 
 selfish man. He is not popular with his work- 
 men." 
 
 " By the way, Bert," said his mother, " you 
 need not mention Mr. Robinson's visit. His 
 business requires secrecy." 
 
 " All right, mother ! I'll bear it in mind." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 STOLEN MONEY. 
 
 SATURDAY afternoon arrived, and with it 
 came Bert's discharge from the shoe shop. 
 He put the four dollars in bis pocket, and 
 with a sober face went home. 
 
 " There are my week's wages, mother," he 
 said. " I don't know when I shall have any 
 more money to hand you." 
 
 " We won't borrow trouble to-night, Bert," 
 responded Mrs. Barton, concealing her solici- 
 tude under a cheerful exterior. " To-morrow 
 is Sunday, and we will defer all worldly anx- 
 ieties till it is over." 
 
 " You are right, mother," said Bert, readily
 
 70 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 chiming in with her cheerful humor. " I am 
 young and strong, and there is plenty of work 
 to be done in the world." 
 
 " Keep up your courage, Bert, and you will 
 be more likely to win success." 
 
 When Sunday was over, however, Bert felt 
 that he must begin to look about him. But 
 the more he looked the more downhearted he 
 became. He went to the village store, having 
 heard that the boy employed there was about 
 to leave. After buying a pound of sugar for 
 his mother, he ventured to say, " Mr. Jones, 
 don't you want to hire a boy? " 
 
 " Why should I want to hire a boy? " asked 
 the store-keeper, in a tone of surprise. 
 
 " I thought that Herman was going to leave 
 you." 
 
 " So he was, but he has changed his mind." 
 
 " Oh ! " ejaculated Bert, disappointed. 
 
 " Are you asking for yourself? " inquired 
 the merchant 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I thought you were at work in the shoe 
 shop." 
 
 " So I was, but I have lost my place." 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed the store-keeper suspi- 
 ciously. " If Squire Marlowe has discharged 
 you, I don't want to hire you." 
 
 "You are mistaken, Mr. Jones, about the
 
 \ 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 71 
 
 cause of my discharge. He had no fault to 
 find with me." 
 
 " So you say/' returned Jonea, in evident 
 skepticism. " Boys don't get discharged for 
 nothing." 
 
 Bert felt inclined to be angry, but he con- 
 trolled his temper. 
 
 " I am a pegger, and the squire has intro- 
 duced a pegging machine, so he has discharged 
 all the peggers." 
 
 " Oh, that's different. Well, I'm sorry for 
 you, but I have no vacancy." 
 
 " If Herman should change his mind again, 
 will you think of me?" 
 
 " Yes, I will. I think yon are a good boy, 
 and you look strong for your size." 
 
 Bert felt a little encouraged by this promise, 
 though it was very doubtful if it would ever 
 amount to anything. 
 
 Day after day passed, and no employment 
 offered. But one morning a bright idea came 
 to Bert. Blueberries were just coming into 
 the market, and he knew of a large pasture a 
 little over a mile away. 
 
 " Mother," he said, " if you'll give me a 
 large tin pail, I'll go after some berries. I 
 may be able to sell them at the hotel." 
 
 " If you can't, we can use them ourselves," 
 rejoined Mrs. Barton.
 
 72 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " It will be better to sell them, for I hear 
 they are bringing fifteen cents a quart. They 
 won't stay long at that figure, so we will put 
 off having them ourselves till they are 
 cheaper." 
 
 It was with a light heart that Bert set out 
 for the berry pasture. He had become tired of 
 having nothing to do. Any sort of employ- 
 ment seemed desirable. Besides, they were 
 very much in want of money, and here seemed 
 a chance of earning some. 
 
 Bert spent five hours in the pasture. Ber- 
 ries were high, because they were scarce, and 
 it took fully twice as long to gather a quart as 
 it would two weeks later. But he kept 
 steadily at his task, and at length the pail 
 which held four quarts was full. He was 
 tired enough and his back ached, but still he 
 felt happy as he left the field and trudged to- 
 ward the Lake House, which was the name of 
 the village hotel. There were a few summer 
 boarders there from New York and Philadel- 
 phia, who were glad to exchange the brick 
 walls and crowded city streets for the verdure 
 and pure breezes of the country. 
 
 Fortunately Bert found the landlord on the 
 piazza, and to him he preferred his request. 
 
 " Would you like to buy some blueberries? " 
 
 " Go round to the side door, Bert," said Mr.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 73 
 
 Holbrook, the good-natured landlord. " I 
 leave all such matters to Mrs. Holbrook." 
 
 " Blueberries? " exclaimed the landlady. 
 
 " Why, it's just what I wanted. Mrs. Case- 
 well, from Philadelphia, has been teasing me 
 for some blueberry pudding. What do you 
 ask?" 
 
 " Fifteen cents a quart," answered Bert. 
 " You know they have just come into the 
 market." 
 
 " That's true. Well, I will pay you your 
 price," said Mrs. Holbrook, who received a 
 good income from her boarders, and was will- 
 ing to be liberal to others. " How many have 
 you got? " 
 
 " I think there are four quarts, but you can 
 measure them." 
 
 There proved to be four quarts, and Bert 
 was made happy by receiving sixty cents in 
 silver. 
 
 " It is almost as much as I made in the 
 shop," he reflected complacently. " And per- 
 haps I can sell some more to-morrow." 
 
 Bert continued to pick berries, but the price 
 fell rapidly until it touched six cents, and it 
 was not so easy to sell the berries at all, for 
 many others engaged in picking them, and 
 the market was overstocked. 
 
 Bert occasionally fell in with Percy Mar-
 
 74 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 lowe, but the manufacturer's son usually took 
 very little notice of him. This did not trou- 
 ble Bert, however, who felt independent, and 
 cared little for the opinion or notice of his 
 wealthy cousin. 
 
 In one respect, however, Percy resembled 
 Bert. He was always short of money. His 
 father allowed him two dollars a week for 
 spending money, more than any other boy in 
 Lakeville received, but Percy felt that it was 
 too little. He had formed an intimacy with 
 Reginald Ward, a young man from New York, 
 who was boarding at the hotel, and with him 
 he used to play pool, which he found rather 
 an expensive game; and still worse, he played 
 poker with him in his own room, locking the 
 door carefully, as this game was not looked 
 upon with favor in Lakeville. The young 
 man from the city was much sharper than the 
 country boy, and steadily won his money till 
 Percy found himself in debt to him in the 
 sum of ten dollars. For this Percy gave his 
 note, but no one knew better than Reginald 
 Ward that it was not valid in law, and he re- 
 solved to secure the money, if possible. 
 
 " Percy, you owe me ten dollars," he said 
 one afternoon. 
 
 " I know it," admitted Percy, rather rue- 
 fully.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 75 
 
 " When are you going to pay me? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Percy. 
 
 " But that won't do, don't you know," re- 
 turned Reginald frowning. " I may go away 
 next week, aad I want my money." 
 
 " I would pay it to you if I had it," said 
 Percy; " but you know I have only my allow- 
 ance of two dollars a week. 7 * 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense! Do you think you 
 are going to put me off that way? " demanded 
 Reginald angrily. " I must have my money." 
 
 " Then I don't see how you're going to get 
 it," said Percy doggedly. " I can't pay what 
 I haven't got." 
 
 "Go to your father and ask for it." 
 
 " As if he would give it to me! You don't 
 know him." 
 
 " Doesn't he ever leave money lying 
 round?" asked Reginald significantly. 
 
 " What do you mean? " asked Percy, red- 
 dening. 
 
 " I see you understand. I was only suggest- 
 ing a way to get the money." 
 
 "I am not a thief." 
 
 " Who said you were? I see I shall have to 
 take the matter into my own hands." 
 
 " How? What do you mean? " asked Percy 
 nervously. 
 
 " I will go to your father, show him this
 
 76 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 I O U of yours, and ask him for the money." 
 "You wouldn't do that, Reginald? He 
 would be awful mad with me, and you 
 wouldn't get your money, either." 
 
 " I must do something. I can't afford to 
 lose the money." 
 
 "Just wait a day or two. I'll see what I 
 can do." 
 
 " Mind you do something, then." 
 Percy regretted that he had ever made 
 the acquaintance of Reginald Ward, or con- 
 sented to play poker with him, but the regret 
 came too late. The mischief was done, and 
 he saw from Ward's determined look that he 
 must do something. He was just in that 
 frame of mind when temptations have the 
 most power. 
 
 In the evening he went to the village store 
 to purchase a fishing-line, for he had made an 
 arrangement to go out fishing with Reginald 
 Ward the next day. He made the purchase, 
 and was about to go when his eye caught sight 
 of a twenty-dollar bill lying on the desk. Mr. 
 Jones had gone to the other end of the store, 
 and no one was looking. On the impulse of 
 the moment he seized the bill, and with his 
 heart beating quickly, he left the store. As 
 he passed through the door Bert Barton en- 
 tered, with a kerosene can in his hand, and
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 77 
 
 walked up to the counter, taking his stand 
 near the desk. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE TWENTY-DOLLAR BILL. 
 
 IN order to understand what followed, it is 
 necessary to explain that the evening pre- 
 vious Bert and his mother found themselves 
 out of money. About a dollar was due the 
 latter for covering balls, but it would not be 
 paid for three days, and meanwhile they were 
 in an embarrassing condition. 
 
 " What shall we do? " asked Mrs. Barton, 
 with a troubled look. " If Uncle Jacob were 
 only here, I would ask his advice." 
 
 " He left a note to be opened if we got into 
 trouble," said Bert, brightening up. 
 
 " So he did. Do you think the time has 
 come, Bert? " 
 
 " I have no doubt of it. Where is it, 
 mother? " 
 
 " I put it in a bureau drawer in my room." 
 
 "Shall I go up and get it?" 
 
 " No ; I will do so, as I know exactly where 
 it is." 
 
 She went upstairs, and returned almost im- 
 mediately with the letter in her hand. Bert 
 produced his knife and cut open the envelope
 
 7& Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 at one end. Then, drawing out the contents, 
 he found them to be a half sheet of note paper 
 and a bank bill. 
 
 " It's a twenty-dollar bill, mother ! " he ex- 
 claimed joyfully. 
 
 "Shall I read the note?" 
 
 " Yes, read it, Bert." 
 
 Bert read as follows: 
 
 MY DEAR NIECE : As I know your income is 
 small, and you are liable, in case of sickness 
 or loss of employment to need help, I put 
 a twenty-dollar bill into this envelope, which 
 I wish you to use freely. Do not fear that 
 it will inconvenience me to give it. My health 
 is good, and I hope to earn my living for years 
 to come. 
 
 Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 JACOB MARLOWE. 
 
 " Dear Uncle Jacob," said the widow grate- 
 fully, " how good and kind he is. With his 
 ' small savings I don't feel that he can afford to 
 be so generous." 
 
 " I will pay him back some time, mother." 
 
 " You think then that we are justified in 
 using it, Bert?" 
 
 " Uncle Jacob meant us to do so. Before it 
 is gone I shall probably find something to do,
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 79 
 
 and then I may gradually be able to pay back 
 the money." 
 
 " In that case, Bert, I am afraid we must 
 break into it to-morrow. Probably Mr. Jones 
 can change it for us." 
 
 So it happened the next evening that Bert, 
 with the kerosene can in his hand, went to the 
 store, entering, as already described, just as 
 Percy left it with the bill which he had pur- 
 loined on the impulse of the moment. 
 
 " I wonld like two quarts of kerosene, Mr. 
 Jones," said Bert, handing over the can. 
 
 The proprietor went to one corner of the 
 store to fill the can, and brought it back. 
 
 " Please take your pay out of this," said 
 Bert, handing him the twenty-dollar bill. 
 
 Mr. Jones started in surprise, and his face 
 darkened ominously. He scanned the desk on 
 which he remembered placing his own twenty- 
 dollar bill, and it was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 "Why, you audacious young thief!" he ex- 
 claimed in a fury. 
 
 " What do you mean? " demanded Bert 
 angrily. 
 
 " What do I mean? " gasped Jones. " You 
 know what I mean well enough. I never knew 
 such audacity." 
 
 " Please explain yourself, Mr. Jones," said
 
 8o Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Bert with spirit. " I didn't come here to be 
 insulted." 
 
 " You are a hardened young reprobate ! Do 
 you mean to say you didn't steal this twenty- 
 dollar bill from my desk, where I laid it five 
 minutes since?" 
 
 " I don't know anything about any twenty- 
 dollar bill of yours, Mr. Jones. This money is 
 mine, or rather my mother's, and I brought it 
 with me from home." 
 
 " Do you expect me to believe this bold 
 falsehood, Bert Barton?" the store-keeper ex- 
 ploded wrathfully. 
 
 " I don't expect you to believe any falsehood 
 at all, Mr. Jones. Will you either change that 
 bill or give it back to me? " 
 
 " I will do neither." 
 i " Then, sir, it is you who are the thief." 
 
 " You impudent young rascal, now I won't 
 have any mercy on you. For your mother's 
 sake, I might have done so, but as you persist 
 in brazening out your guilt, I will see that 
 ! you have a chance to repent. Here is the con- 
 i stable come in just at the right moment. Mr. 
 , Drake, please come here." 
 I A tall, pleasant-looking officer, who had just 
 entered the store, approached the desk. 
 
 " What can I do for you, Mr. Jones? " he 
 askedL
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 81 
 
 "Arrest this boy!" said Jones, pointing 
 with flushed face at his young customer. 
 
 " Arrest Bert Barton ! " exclaimed Consta- 
 ble Drake, in amazement. " What on earth 
 has he done? " 
 
 " Stolen a twenty-dollar bill from my desk, 
 and then presented it to me in payment for 
 some kerosene." 
 
 " The charge is false ! " said Bert, his eyes 
 glowing with indignation. 
 
 "Hear him deny it!" said Jones, looking 
 at the circle that had gathered around them. 
 
 " I find it hard to credit your charge, Mr. 
 Jones," replied the constable. " We all know 
 Bert Barton, and I don't believe he would be 
 guilty of theft.'' 
 
 " I require you to arrest the boy! " persisted 
 the store-keeper, stamping his foot in excite- 
 ment. 
 
 "Wait a moment! Did you see him take 
 the bill?" 
 
 " No," answered Jones reluctantly. 
 
 "Then why do you accuse him? Please 
 state the circumstances." 
 
 " A few minutes since I was paid twenty, 
 dollars by Mr. Holbrook of the hotel, in settle- 
 ment of his weekly bill for groceries, and being 
 somewhat hurried I laid it down on the desk 
 while I was filling an order."
 
 82 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Go on ! " 
 
 " Five minutes since Bert Barton came in 
 and took up his position where he is now 
 standing. He asked me for two quarts of 
 kerosene. I filled his can for him, and he gave 
 me a twenty-dollar bill from which to take 
 payment. I was naturally surprised, and 
 looked for the bill I had left on the desk. It 
 was gone!" 
 
 Mr. Jones gazed about the circle triumph- 
 antly. 
 
 "What do you say to that?" he asked, 
 
 Sympathetic eyes were turned upon Bert. 
 Things certainly looked black for him. 
 
 " I don't think I need say any more," added 
 the store-keeper. " I want you to arrest that 
 boy." 
 
 Bert looked at the faces that encircled him. 
 He saw that they believed him guilty, and a 
 feeling of hot indignation possessed him. 
 
 " Bert, my boy/' said Officer Drake, " what 
 have you to say to this? " 
 
 "That the twenty-dollar bill I handed to 
 Mr. Jones belongs to my mother. I know 
 nothing of the bill he says he laid on hia 
 desk." 
 
 " That's a likely story ! " put in Mr. Jones, 
 in a tone of sarcasm. " How many more
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 83 
 
 twenty-dollar bills have you got at your 
 house? I wasn't aware that your mother was 
 so wealthy." 
 
 Again opinion was unfavorable to poor 
 Bert. His mother's straitened circumstances 
 were well known, and it certainly did seem 
 improbable upon the face of it that she should 
 have a twenty-dollar bill in her possession. 
 
 " This was the only twenty-dollar bill that 
 my mother had," replied Bert. 
 
 "Oh, indeed! I thought as much," said 
 Mr. Jones significantly. " Mr. Drake, do you 
 intend to arrest that boy? " he added angrily. 
 
 " I have no warrant," returned the officer. 
 " If you will swear that you saw him take the 
 bill, I will assume the responsibility." 
 
 " I didn't see him take it," the store-keeper 
 again admitted reluctantly; "but it stands to 
 reason that it is mine." 
 
 Here a young man in the outer circle 
 stepped forward. He was a summer boarder 
 at the hotel, and Bert knew him slightly. 
 
 " I am a lawyer," he said, " and if Bert will 
 place his* interests in my hands I will see what 
 I can do to throw light upon this mystery." 
 
 " I shall be very glad to do so, Mr. Con- 
 way," answered Bert. 
 
 " No lawyer is needed," sputtered Jones. 
 " The case is as plain as can be. I have no
 
 84 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 more doubt that the boy took my bill than if I 
 had seen him do it." 
 
 " That isn't legal proof; it is only an as- 
 sumption," said the young lawyer. " Squire 
 Marlowe is, I believe, your magistrate here, 
 and I agree in behalf of my client to have the 
 matter brought before him to-morrow morn- 
 ing. Meanwhile, Mr. Jones, will you hand the 
 twenty-dollar bill in dispute to officer 
 Drake? " 
 
 "Why should I? The bill is mine," said 
 the merchant sullenly. 
 
 " That remains to be proved. Do I under- 
 stand that you refuse to give up the bill? " 
 
 "I do? " answered Jones doggedly. 
 
 " Then I will apply at once for a warrant 
 for your arrest for holding property belonging 
 to my young client," said Mr. Conway. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MR. JONES IS EXCITED. 
 
 THE astonishment and wrath of Mr. Jones 
 were almost ludicrous as he stared at the 
 lawyer, who, cool and composed, reiterated his 
 threat. 
 
 "I never heard of such a thing!" he 
 gasped. " You take my own money from 
 me?"
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 85 
 
 " It remains to be proved whether it is your 
 own money. The boy says it is his." 
 
 "The boy lies." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Jones, I cannot allow you to 
 
 make such charges against my client, unless 
 
 you are ready to substantiate them by proof." 
 
 j " It stands to reason," began Mr. Jones, but 
 
 the young lawyer interrupted him. 
 
 " Nothing stands to reason that you can't 
 prove," he said. " We will give you an 
 opportunity to prove your ownership of the 
 bill to-morrow in court. Now hand the bill to 
 officer Drake." 
 
 Very much against his will, Mr. Jones felt 
 compelled to do this. 
 
 " Isn't the boy going to be arrested? " he 
 demanded, with an ugly look at Bert. 
 
 " It is unnecessary. You can bring a 
 formal charge against him before Squire Mar- 
 lowe to-morrow." 
 
 " The boy may escape during the night. I 
 won't trust him." 
 
 There was a murmur of disapproval among 
 those present. All liked Bert, and Mr. Jones 1 , 
 from his quick temper and ugly disposition, 
 was by no means a favorite. The store-keeper 
 saw that it would not be good policy to insist 
 upon Bert's arrest, and he said, sullenly, " I
 
 86 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 will hold you responsible for his presence at 
 the trial." 
 
 Mr. Conway smiled. 
 
 " If he is not present, I will myself see that 
 you do not suffer in consequence. Besides, 
 flight would be tantamount to confession, 
 and the case would go against him by de- 
 fault." 
 
 " And should I in that case get the twenty- 
 dollar bill?" 
 
 " I will take it upon me to offer no opposi- 
 tion," said the lawyer. 
 
 " Now, can I go? '' asked Bert. 
 
 " Yes ; I will accompany you home for con- 
 sultation." 
 
 Bert took the can of kerosene and was 
 about to leave the store, when the store-keeper 
 said harshly: "Put down that kerosene! 
 you haven't paid for it ! " 
 
 Bert flushed and looked embarrassed. It 
 was true that he had not paid for it, nor did 
 he have the money to pay, outside of the 
 twenty-dollar bill which had been taken from 
 him. 
 
 " I have no money," he said. " I will leave 
 it till to-morrow." 
 
 " How much is it, Mr. Jones? " asked. Con- 
 way. 
 
 " Twenty-five cents.''
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 87 
 
 " I will advance the money. Bert, take 
 jour can." 
 
 " You are very kind, Mr. Conway," said the 
 boy gratefully. 
 
 " We will settle hereafter. Now let us be 
 going." 
 
 In explanation of the price mentioned, I 
 may say that kerosene is now much cheaper 
 than at the date of my story. 
 
 " Now, Bert," said Mr. Conway, " as your 
 legal adviser I shall have to ask you to tell 
 me just where you obtained the bill you 
 offered in payment to Mr. Jones for the kero- 
 sene. I have no doubt of your innocence, but 
 we must make it plain to all who may attend 
 the trial." 
 
 " J should like to have you come home with 
 me, Mr. Conway. Mother will confirm what 
 I say." 
 
 " I shall be glad to do so. Will your 
 mother be alarmed? " 
 
 "Yes, I think she will; but you can make 
 things clear to her." 
 
 Mrs. Barton was indeed startled when she 
 learned that Bert had been charged with 
 theft, but after a free talk witn Mr. Conway 
 she felt much relieved. 
 
 " Your defence is perfect, I think," said the 
 young lawyer. " Of course Mr. Jones or his
 
 88 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 lawyer may claim that you wrote the letter 
 yourself." 
 
 " Will it be necessary to send to Uncle 
 Jacob and get him to testify?" 
 
 " I don't think so. I think your defence 
 will be complete without it. There is another 
 point of considerable importance which I 
 shall look up to-night. If things turn out as 
 I suspect they will, we shall not need to dis- 
 turb your Uncle Jacob." 
 
 At nine o'clock Mr. Conway took his leave 
 and returned to the hotel. He had a short 
 conference with the landlord, which was evi- 
 dently satisfactory. 
 
 " I think we shall prove too many for Mr. 
 Jones," he murmured softly, as he went up to 
 bed. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PERCY GETS RID OF THE BILL. 
 
 WHEN Percy Marlowe left the grocery 
 store with the stolen bill in his hand, he was 
 tremulous with excitement and agitation. He 
 felt that he had committed a crime, and Lo 
 was almost tempted to go back and replace 
 the money. But it was possible that its loss 
 had already been discovered, and he might 
 be connected with it. He felt that it would be
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 89 
 
 safe to get as far away as possible from the 
 store. 
 
 " Nobody will suspect me," he said to him- 
 self, plucking up courage. 
 
 Then there was the pleasant thought that he 
 could pay up his debt to Reginald Ward, and 
 have ten dollars left over. It would be very 
 comfortable to have ten dollars to spend, and 
 Percy, whose conscience was not sensitive, be- 
 gan to consider what would be the pleas- 
 antest way of disposing of it. He soon came 
 to a decision on this point, having, like most 
 boys, rather a talent for spending money. 
 
 " I'll go round by the hotel," he said to 
 himself, " and if I find Reg there I'll pay him 
 what I owe him and get it off my mind." 
 
 Percy walked around to the Lake House, 
 and found Reginald Ward in the billiard 
 room. Ward treated him rather coldly. 
 
 " Good-morning, Percy," he said. 
 
 " Good-morning, Reg." 
 
 " I hope you have come prepared to pay me 
 what you owe me. I may have to go back to 
 New York to-morrow." 
 
 " I wish he would," thought Percy. " Then, 
 if there's any trouble about this money, he 
 will be well out of the way, and nobody can 
 find out about it." 
 
 " I can pay you to-night," said Percy.
 
 90 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 ''You can? You're a trump!" said Regi- 
 .nald, in gratified surprise. 
 
 " Suppose we go up to your room," went on 
 Percy nervously, " and don't talk about it 
 here. I don't want anybody to know that I 
 am owing you any money." 
 
 " I understand. The governor wouldn't 
 like it, hey?" 
 
 tl No, he'd be awful mad." 
 
 " Follow me, then, Percy," and Ward led 
 the way up to his room. 
 
 " Lock the door," said Percy. 
 
 " Seems to me we are mighty mysterious," 
 commented Ward, laughing. " Oh, well; any- 
 thing to accommodate. Now, where are the 
 spondulicks? " 
 
 " Can you change a twenty-dollar bill? " 
 asked Percy. 
 
 " Whew ! you are wealthy," said Ward, in 
 surprise. " Let me see ! " and he opened his 
 pocket book. " Much as ever," he replied, 
 after investigating the contents. " Here is a 
 five, a two, a silver dollar, and I think I can 
 make up two dollars in small change. It'll 
 take up about all I've got." 
 
 " Then perhaps you'd rather wait till I have 
 a chance to get the bill changed," suggested 
 Percy. 
 
 " Not much," returned Reginald, with a
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 91 
 
 crafty smile. " ' A bird in the hand is worth 
 two in the bush/ as somebody says. I am 
 willing to be inconvenienced for the sake of 
 getting the debt paid." 
 
 " Oh, well ; just as you say," rejoined Percy, 
 eecretly glad to get the tell-tale bill out of his 
 possession, and to replace it in his pocket with 
 the smaller bills and silver which Ward pro- 
 posed to give him. 
 
 When the transfer was made, Ward asked, 
 " Where did you raise the twenty, Percy? " 
 
 Now it was that Percy looked embarrassed. 
 
 " It is some money I had given to me a long 
 while ago," he answered with hesitation. 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Ward, evidently incred- 
 ulous. 
 
 " I promised not to use it, but to keep it! 
 saved up," continued Percy, "and I meant to; 
 but you wanted me to pay what I owed you, 
 and so " 
 
 " You acted like an honest young man," 
 eaid Ward, finishing his sentence for him. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 There was a peculiar smile on Reginald 
 Ward's face, but he did not think it best to 
 question Percy's statement. His money had 
 been paid him, and that was all he cared for. 
 
 " Percy's found it in his father's desk, I 
 reckon," he said to himself, " but that doesn't
 
 Q2 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 concern me. I've got my money and that's 
 more than I expected." 
 
 " By the way, Reg," said Percy hurriedly, 
 " don't mention to any one my paying you 
 this money." 
 
 " Why not? " 
 
 "It would be found out that I had been 
 playing cards for money, and there'd be no 
 end of a row. Besides, then it would come out 
 that I had parted with this bill." 
 
 " All right, Percy. I'll keep mum. Won't 
 you go down and have a game of billiards? " 
 
 " Not to-night. I'm rather tired." 
 
 " That boy's got something on his mind," 
 thought Reginald Ward. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BEET STANDS TRIAL. 
 
 PERCY went to bed early, and heard nothing 
 of Bert's arrest for the theft which he had 
 himself committed till at the breakfast table 
 the next morning his father said : " Well, 
 young Barton has got into a bad scrape." 
 
 " What is it, father? " asked Percy, prick- 
 ing up his ears. 
 
 " He is charged with stealing a twenty-dol- 
 lar bill from Mr. Jones, the store-keeper."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 93 
 
 This was certainly amazing, and Percy, in 
 his agitation, nearly choked with some coffee 
 that went the wrong way. 
 
 " Be more careful, Percy ! " said his mother 
 sharply. 
 
 " I was so surprised, mother, at what father 
 told me," apologized Percy. 
 
 " I don't know why you need be surprised," 
 said Mrs. Marlowe. " I never had a very good 
 opinion of the boy." 
 
 "How did it happen?" asked Percy, 
 curious to know how suspicion could have 
 fallen upon Bert. 
 
 "It appears that Mr. Jones laid a twenty- 
 dollar bill on his desk a very careless pro- 
 ceeding, by the way while he was waiting 
 upon a customer in another part of the store. 
 About five minutes afterward the Barton boy 
 called upon him to fill a small can with kero- 
 sene, and actually had the hardihood to offer 
 his own twenty-dollar bill in payment." 
 
 " Bert Barton offered Mr. Jones a twenty- 
 dollar bill?" asked Percy, in great surprise. 
 
 "Yes; no wonder you are surprised at his 
 boldness." 
 
 " Perhaps it wasn't the same bill," Percy 
 was constrained to suggest. 
 
 " You must be a fool, Percy. Where else 
 could he have got so large a bill as that? We
 
 94 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 all know how poor the Bartons are. Besides, 
 the bill on the desk had disappeared." 
 
 Percy was silent for a moment. He felt be- 
 wildered, and could not understand it at all. 
 He knew very well that it was not the same 
 bill. But where did the other bill come from? 
 How happened a poor boy like Bert Barton 
 to have such a large bill in his possession? 
 That was certainly mysterious. 
 
 " Was was Bert arrested? " he asked, in a 
 hesitating tone. 
 
 " He would have been but for the interfer- 
 ence of a meddlesome young lawyer, who, it 
 appears, is staying at the hotel." 
 
 "Mr. Conway?" 
 
 " I believe that is his name. He offered to 
 defend the Barton boy, and would not permit 
 him to be arrested." 
 
 Percy was glad to hear this. He was mean 
 and selfish, but he was not mean enough to 
 wish Bert to suffer for a crime of which he 
 knew him to be innocent. 
 
 " What was done, then?" he asked, after a 
 pause. 
 
 " The boy was allowed to go home, but his 
 trial is to take place before me this morning 
 at ten o'clock. You can be present, if you 
 desire." 
 
 " I don't know as I do," said Percy.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 95 
 
 His father looked surprised. 
 " I thought you would be eager to be there," 
 i he said. 
 
 j "I may come in," said Percy; "but I am 
 ! sorry for Bert, and I should not like to see 
 ! him under arrest." 
 
 " You are too good-hearted, Percy," said 
 ' his mother. " I am sure I hope the boy did 
 not do what is charged, though I don't think 
 there is the slightest doubt of it; but if he is 
 guilty I want him punished. That is the only 
 way to protect the community from further 
 thefts." 
 
 " What would mother say if she knew I did 
 it? " thought Percy, shivering. " I wish I 
 hadn't done it." 
 
 But it was too late to wish that. He had 
 appropriated the money, and it had been paid 
 away. Suppose Reginald Ward should be- 
 tray him? Percy earnestly hoped that he 
 would leave town before he had a chance to 
 hear of the stolen money, for he felt certain 
 that sharp young man would suspect him of 
 having had something to do with it. 
 
 As the time drew near, Percy decided that 
 he had better not attend the trial. He was 
 afraid that some one would call to mind that 
 he too had been standing near the desk just 
 before the bill disappeared. He felt nervous
 
 96 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 and excited. He wished it was all over, and 
 Bert was acquitted. Suppose he were found 
 guilty and sentenced to imprisonment? It 
 would be terrible, Percy admitted to himself ; 
 but what could he do? He couldn't confess, 
 and incur the same punishment himself. The 
 very thought made him shudder. He walked 
 about the streets in a very uncomfortable 
 frame of mind till about a quarter of ten. 
 Then he suddenly encountered Bert, who, in 
 company with his lawyer, was on his way to a 
 room in the town hall where the trial was to 
 take place. Bert held his head erect, but his 
 face was flushed with shame at the unpleas- 
 ant predicament in which he found himself. 
 When he saw Percy approaching he said to 
 himself bitterly : " There is one who will re- 
 joice at my misfortune." 
 
 What was his surprise, then, when Percy 
 came up with a pleasant smile, and said, 
 " Good-morning, Bert." 
 
 Bert looked at him sharply, to see if there 
 was anything triumphant in his smile, but 
 Percy's manner was cordial and friendly. 
 
 "Have you heard of my trouble, Percy?" 
 asked Bert abruptly. 
 
 " Yes, Bert, and I am very sorry for it." 
 
 " Do you believe me guilty? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 97 
 
 " No, I don%" returned Percy, and he 
 offered his hand. 
 
 " Thank you, Percy," said Bert, moved in 
 spite of himself. " I misjudged you. If you 
 don't believe me guilty, I hope others won't. 
 Are you going to the trial? " 
 
 " I wasn't thinking of doing so, but I will 
 walk with you as far as the town hall." 
 
 There was quite a crowd gathered near the 
 entrance to the building, for it was generally 
 known that Bert was to be tried for the theft 
 that morning. Some of those composing it 
 in fact most were Bert's friends; but there 
 were a few who delighted in scandal and 
 looked forward with eagerness to hearing the 
 details, and did not care much how Bert 
 might be affected by it 
 
 The surprise was general when Bert ap- 
 proached, apparently in friendly converse 
 with Percy Marlowe, a boy whose want of 
 cordial feeling toward him was generally 
 known. The occasion was a trial for Bert, 
 but Percy's unexpected friendliness sustained 
 him, though he had not got over his surprise 
 at it. 
 
 All parties entered the court-room, and 
 presently Squire Marlowe himself appeared. 
 He walked with dignity to the platform, and
 
 98 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 took his seat behind the desk over which jus- 
 tice was dispensed. 
 
 " Who is the complainant in this case? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " I am, squire," said Mr. Jones, advancing 
 eagerly. 
 
 " State jour case." 
 
 " I charge this boy Bert Barton with 
 stealing a twenty-dollar bill from my desk 
 last evening." 
 
 "Have you counsel?" 
 
 " No, squire. The case is plain, and I can 
 manage it myself." 
 
 " I represent the defendant," said the young 
 lawyer Conway. 
 
 " You are a lawyer, are you? " asked Squire 
 Marlowe, frowning. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Have you any evidence or certificate to 
 show this? " 
 
 " I can prove it, if necessary ; but I will ven- 
 ture to suggest that your doubts on the sub- 
 ject are very singular, and that, lawyer or no 
 lawyer, I am at liberty to appear for the de- 
 fendant if he desires it" 
 
 Squire Marlowe coughed and looked dis- 
 pleased at this remark. 
 
 " State your case, Mr. Jones," he said, after 
 the latter had been sworn.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 99 
 
 The grocer told the story as it happened, 
 making it bear as heavily against Bert as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 " Do you wish to ask the witness any 
 questions, Mr. Conway," inquired the judge. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Mr. Jones, what makes you 
 think my client took your twenty-dollar 
 bill?" 
 
 "It stands to reason " commenced the 
 grocer. 
 
 " Never mind about that ! Please stick to 
 facts." 
 
 " Well, the bill disappeared." 
 
 " Admitted. Go on." 
 
 " The Barton boy was standing near the 
 desk." 
 
 " Did you see him take it? " 
 
 "No; how could I? My back was turned." 
 
 " This is important. Then, so far as your 
 knowledge goes, any other person may have 
 taken the bill." 
 
 " Didn't I tell you that the boy was brazen 
 enough to offer me the same bill in payment 
 for some kerosene which I got for him?" 
 
 " You are very sure it was the same bill, are 
 you, Mr. Jones? " asked Conway carelessly. 
 
 " Why, of course it was." 
 
 " That won't do ! How can you prove it 
 was?"
 
 loo Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Because," said the grocer triumphantly^ 
 " the bill I lost was a twenty-dollar bill, and 
 the bill the boy offered me was a twenty-dol- 
 lar bill," and Mr. Jones looked around the 
 court-room with a complacent and triumphant 
 smile. Squire Marlowe, judge though he was, 
 gave a little nod, as if to show that he, too, 
 thought the argument was unanswerable. 
 Even Bert's friends in the court-room glanced 
 at each other gravely. It certainly looked 
 bad for our hero. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 BERT'S TRIUMPHANT VINDICATION. 
 
 " You have not answered my question, Mr. 
 Jones," persisted the young lawyer. 
 
 " I rather think I have," said the grocer, 
 looking around him triumphantly. 
 
 " But not satisfactorily. I ask you again, 
 how do you know that the twenty-dollar bill 
 tendered you by my client was the same bill 
 which you left on the desk? " 
 
 " It stands to reason '> 
 
 "Stop there! That is no answer." 
 
 " It seems to me you're mighty particular," 
 retorted the grocer sharply. 
 
 " My young client's interests require it. 
 Now for your answer."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 101 
 
 * Well, there wasn't any other twenty-dol- 
 lar bill around." 
 
 " How do you know ! Young Barton saysi 
 he brought the bill from home." 
 
 "He says so ! " repeated Mr. Jones, with 
 a suggestive sneer. 
 
 " Upon that point I propose to call a wit- 
 nes who will corroborate his statement. Mrs. 
 Barton ! " 
 
 The widow Barton came forward, pale and 
 anxious, and was sworn. She was regarded 
 with sympathy by all present except the gro- 
 cer and the acting judge. After one or two 
 unimportant questions, Mr. Conway asked: 
 " When your son went to the grocery store, 
 did he take any money with hin??" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 " Twenty dollars." 
 
 
 
 " Was it in the form of one bill, or sev- 
 eral? " 
 
 " It was a single twenty-dollar bill." 
 
 Mr. Jones, who had now taken his seat, 
 looked insultingly incredulous. 
 
 " Can I ask a question? " he said, turning 
 to Squire Marlowe. 
 
 " You can." 
 
 " I should like to ask Mrs. 3arton where 
 the prisoner obtained the .wentv^dollar bill?"
 
 102 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 And the grocer looked around the court-room 
 again, triumphantly. 
 
 " It came from my uncle, Jacob Marlowe," 
 answered Mrs. Barton. 
 
 "Ah, that's it! Is Mr. Jacob Marlowe in 
 town?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " When was he in town? " 
 
 " Three or four weeks since." 
 
 " When did he give you the money? " 
 
 " He left a sealed envelope containing it, 
 which we were not to open unless in case of 
 need." 
 
 " When did you first open it? " 
 
 " Last evening." 
 
 " Can you produce the envelope? " asked 
 Jones, with an ironical smile. 
 
 "Here it is." 
 
 The envelope was taken and examined by 
 the grocer. 
 
 " There is nothing to show tha4; this coald 
 not have been prepared by the defendant, 
 without the knowledge of this convenient 
 uncle," he said. 
 
 " There was a note accompanying it," Mrs. 
 Barton added. 
 
 " Let me see it." 
 
 " I will read it," said Mr. Conway, taking 
 it in his hand.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 103 
 
 This note has already been quoted in Chap- 
 ter XI. 
 
 Mr. Jones looked somewhat nonplussed. 
 
 "I am free to confess," he said, after a 
 pause, " that I doubt the genuineness of this 
 note. Nothing could be easier than to pre- 
 pare it." 
 
 " I appeal to the court to protect the wit- 
 ness from insult," interposed Mr. Conway. 
 
 " I do not consider that she has been in- 
 sulted," said Squire Marlowe coldly. " The 
 credibility of testimony is always a matter 
 to be considered." 
 
 Mr. Jones eyed the young lawyer with a 
 triumphant smile. 
 
 " Have you any further questions to put, 
 Mr. ^ones?" added Conway. 
 
 "No, sir, I am satisfied." 
 
 " Then the witness may step down. I call 
 upon Mr. Jones to take the witness stand 
 again." 
 
 " I have no objection, I am sure ! " said the 
 grocer jauntily. He saw that the judge was 
 with him, and he confidently anticipated 
 Bert's conviction. 
 
 " From whom did you obtain the twenty- 
 dollar bill which you charge my client with 
 taking?" asked Mr. Conway.
 
 104 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " From Mr. Holbrook, the landlord of the 
 hotel." 
 
 " You are sure of this? " demanded Con way 
 sternly. 
 
 " Of course I am." 
 
 " And you will swear that this is the case? " 
 
 " Certainly ! " answered Mr. Jones aggres- 
 sively, thinking it very important that he 
 should substantiate this fact. 
 
 " That will do, Mr. Jones." 
 
 The grocer took his seat, feeling that he had 
 scored a victory and foiled the lawyer. It 
 was not long before he had occasion to change 
 his opinion. 
 
 " Mr. Holbrook," called Conway. 
 
 The landlord of the Lakeville Hotel took 
 the stand. He was a pleasant-looking, good- 
 hearted man, and he glanced sympathetically 
 at Bert and his mother. 
 
 " Mr. Holbrook," said Conway, " do you 
 remember paying Mr. Jones, the complainant, 
 a twenty-dollar bill? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 The grocer smiled again. Everything 
 seemed to favor his side of the case. 
 
 " For what was the payment made? " 
 
 " For groceries furnished by Mr. Jones." 
 
 " Would you recognize the bill you paid if 
 you should see it again? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 105 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Is this the bill?" asked the lawyer, ex- 
 hibiting the note taken from the grocer, and 
 now in the custody of the court. 
 
 Mr. Holbrook took the bill in his hand, and, 
 turning it over, looked at the reverse side. 
 All eyes were upon him, and there was a hush 
 of expectation, for it was felt that the whole 
 case hinged upon the answer to this question. 
 
 " This is not the same bill," answered the 
 landlord composedly. 
 
 Bert's friends looked joyful, and Mr. Jones 
 looked dismayed. 
 
 " He is mistaken ! " ejaculated the grocer, 
 much perturbed. 
 
 " Of course," continued the young lawyer, 
 " you have some means of identification. 
 Please state to the court how you know that 
 this is not the same bill." 
 
 " The bill which I paid to Mr. Jones," an- 
 swered the landlord, " had the letters I. W. 
 written in red ink on the back. This note has 
 no such mark." 
 
 Conway looked triumphant. It was his 
 turn now. He took the bank-note, and hold- 
 ing it up in sight of all, called the attention 
 of the court and those present to the fact at- 
 tested by the witness. 
 
 " It is clear," he said, " that nothing was
 
 io6 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 ever written on the back of this note in red 
 ink." 
 
 " It might have been effaced," suggested the 
 grocer querulously. 
 
 " The bill, since it was taken from the com- 
 plainant, has been in charge of the court," 
 said Conway. " I hardly think the complain- 
 ant will dare to assert that it has been 
 tampered with. And now, your honor," turn- 
 ing to the presiding judge, " I submit that the 
 charge has been completely answered. We 
 have shown that the bill tendered by my client 
 was not the bill lost by Mr. Jones. I claim his 
 discharge." 
 
 Squire Marlowe hesitated, but he could 
 think of no pretext for holding Bert, since the 
 case against him had so signally failed. 
 
 " The prisoner is discharged ! " he said 
 briefly, and rose from his seat. 
 
 Bert's friends surrounded him, and he be- 
 gan to fear that in their enthusiasm they 
 would shake his hand off. It was almost as 
 serious as being a Presidential candidate. It 
 is needless to say, however, that Mr. Jones 
 was not one of the friends who congratulated 
 him. He, on the other hand, looked decidedly 
 grumpy, and as if he had lost his best friend. 
 He pushed his way through the crowd up to 
 the young lawyer.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 107 
 
 " This is all very fine, Mr. Lawyer," he said, 
 " but will you tell me how I am to get my 
 money back? " 
 
 " What money, Mr. Jones? " 
 
 " The twenty-dollar bill taken from my 
 desk, of course." 
 
 " I wish I could, Mr. Jones, but I know no 
 more than the man in the moon." 
 
 " Is that all the satisfaction I am going to 
 get?" demanded Jones angrily. 
 
 " From me yes. You will have to find the 
 person who actually took the money." 
 
 " I don't see how I am to do it. I would 
 have sworn that it was Bert Barton, and I am 
 not sure now " 
 
 "Stop there, Mr. Jones! If after my 
 client's full vindication you insinuate any 
 charge of dishonesty, I shall advise him to sue 
 you for defamation of character." 
 
 The grocer looked startled, and Conway 
 continued : 
 
 " But I will volunteer the suggestion that 
 as you can now identify the bill, you can 
 advertise that a note so marked has been 
 stolen from you, and call upon any one into 
 whose hands it may come to help you trace it 
 back to the thief. There is a chance that yon 
 may recover it."
 
 io8 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 WHAT BECAME OF THE STOLEN NOTE. 
 
 AMONG the attentive listeners at Bert's 
 trial was a tall young man with light hair and 
 pallid complexion, upon whose thin face there 
 played a shrewd smile. He seemed unusually 
 interested, as was indeed the case, for he 
 strongly suspected that he knew who was 
 the actual purloiner of the stolen twenty-dol- 
 lar bill. It is hardly necessary to say that the 
 young man was Percy's friend, Reginald 
 Ward. 
 
 When the landlord gave his testimony, he 
 was no longer in doubt, for he had himself 
 noticed the letters I. W. on the back of the 
 bank-bill. 
 
 As he left the court-room, he saw Percy lin- 
 gering near the door. 
 
 " Come with me, Percy," he said, linking 
 his arm with that of the boy. " I have some- 
 thing to say to you." 
 
 " I have an engagement," pleaded Percy, 
 trying to release himself. " I will call round 
 this afternoon." 
 
 I can't wait till afternoon," said Reginald 
 decidedly. " I must speak to you now on a 
 matter of importance."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 109 
 
 " How did the trial come out? " 
 
 " The boy was acquitted." 
 
 " I thought he would be." 
 
 " Why? " asked Reginald Ward, eyeing 
 Percy curiously. 
 
 " Because I don't think he would steal." 
 
 " Is he a friend of yours? " 
 
 "No; he is only a working boy." 
 
 " Still you think he is honest? " 
 
 " Oh, yes." 
 
 " How then do you account for the bill's 
 being stolen? " 
 
 Percy shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I don't feel sure that any bill was stolen," 
 he said. " I don't think much of old Jones. 
 I dare say he made up the story." 
 
 " That is hardly likely. What object could 
 he have? " 
 
 " He wanted to get hold of Bert Barton's 
 bill. Where did Bert get it from? Did he 
 say? " 
 
 " He said it was left in an envelope by some 
 old uncle of his." 
 
 "Uncle Jacob?" 
 
 "Yes; I think that was the name." 
 
 "I didn't think the old man had so much 
 money to spare." 
 
 "You seem to know him then?" 
 
 " I have heard of him."
 
 no Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 By this time they had reached the hotel, 
 and Reginald asked Percy to come up to his 
 room. 
 
 " What was it you wanted to speak to me 
 about? " asked Percy, as he took a seat at the 
 window. 
 
 " I wanted to tell you that the stolen bill 
 came from Mr. Holbrook. Mr. Jones testified 
 to this effect, and Mr. Holbrook also." 
 
 "Well, what of that?" 
 
 " Mr. Holbrook described the bill and 
 stated that the letters I. W. were written in 
 red ink on the reverse side." 
 
 Percy began to see the point, and waited 
 anxiously for Reginald to continue. 
 
 Ward drew from his pocket the twenty- 
 dollar bill, and held it up to open view. 
 
 " This is the bill you paid me last evening," 
 he said. " You will observe the letters I. W. 
 as described by the landlord. Now, where 
 did you get this bill?" he asked searchingly. 
 
 Drops of perspiration stood on Percy's fore- 
 head, and he hesitated to reply. Finally an 
 inspiration came to him, and he said, " I 
 picked it up in the street, near the grocery 
 store. The thief must have dropped it." 
 
 " You didn't tell me that when you paid it 
 to me."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. in 
 
 " No, I didn't think it necessary. I was 
 anxious to get out of debt to you." 
 
 " Percy Marlowe, that statement of yours 
 won't pass muster. Weren't you in the gro- 
 cery store last evening?" 
 
 " No yes," stammered Percy. 
 
 " And you saw this bill on Mr. Jones's desk 
 yes or no? " 
 
 " I don't see what right you have to ques- 
 tion me," said Percy sullenly. 
 
 " Because you have paid me stolen money, 
 and if I keep it I am likely to get into trouble. 
 Indeed, I came very near it this morning. I 
 was on the point of paying it to Mr. Holbrook 
 for my board. You can imagine that he would 
 have recognized it at once." 
 
 " I don't see as you are to blame." 
 
 " No, I am not; but if the bill were known 
 to be in my possession, the only thing I could 
 do would be to state from whom I received 
 it." 
 
 " You wouldn't do that ! " said Percy, in 
 alarm. 
 
 " I should have to. But I don't mean to 
 run the risk. I will give you back the bill, 
 and you must return me the ten dollars I gave 
 you in change/'' 
 
 " But what can I do with the bill? "
 
 H2 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " That is your lookout. Of course you will 
 still owe me ten dollars." 
 
 Keluctantly Percy drew out the ten dollars 
 he had received in change, not having yet 
 spent any of it, and Reginald Ward gave him 
 back the unlucky bill. Percy thrust it quickly 
 into his vest pocket. 
 
 " Now, Percy," said Reginald, " let me ad- 
 vise you as a friend to get that bill out of your 
 possession as soon as possible. If it is traced 
 to you, you will get into hot water." 
 
 " I can't pass it here." 
 
 " You have no right to pass it anywhere." 
 
 " You could pass it in New York." 
 
 Reginald Ward considered a moment, but 
 shook his head. " No, it would be too danger- 
 ous," he said. " It might be traced to me, 
 and it would be known that I have been in 
 Lakeville. I should have to expose you to 
 screen myself." 
 
 " Then what would you advise me to do? " 
 
 " Get it back to Mr. Jones in some way. 
 Here, take an envelope, inclose the bill, and 
 mark the grocer's name on it. Then drop it 
 somewhere, and the thing will be done; Jones 
 will be happy and you will be safe." 
 
 "All right!" 
 
 " Percy followed Reginald's advice, and 
 then put the letter in his pocket.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 113 
 
 rt When are you going back to New York? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " To-morrow. I will leave you my address, 
 and hope you will have the honesty to pay me 
 what you owe me as soon as possible." 
 
 " Yes, I will, but I am afraid that won't be 
 soon." 
 
 " You ought to make an effort to pay me." 
 
 " It isn't as if I really owed it to you. It 
 is money I have lost at cards." 
 
 " If you are a boy of honor," said Reginald 
 impressively, " you will feel that such debts 
 ought to be paid above all others." 
 
 "Why should they?" asked Percy, and 
 there will be many others who will be disposed 
 to echo the question. " Why should gambling 
 debts take precedence of honest obligations? " 
 It is not necessary to repeat Reginald's ex- 
 planation, as it was shallow and sophistical. 
 
 Two hours later Sam Doyle, a young Irish 
 boy, espied, under a bush by the roadside, 
 what seemed to be a letter. He picked it up, 
 and, though his education was by no means 
 extensive, he made out the name of Mr. Jones. 
 
 " Shure Mr. Jones must have dropped it 
 out of his pocket," he said. " I'll carry it to 
 him." 
 
 He entered the store, and attracted the 
 attention of the grocer, who was behind the
 
 H4 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 counter, and in a bad humor, smarting still 
 from his loss of twenty dollars. 
 
 "Clear out, you Sam Doyle!" he said, 
 " unless you want to buy something. I don't 
 want any boys loafing round my store." 
 
 " Is this your envelope, Mr. Jones? " asked 
 Sam, producing the envelope. 
 
 " Give it to me." 
 
 Mr. Jones read his name on the envelope in 
 some wonder and tore it open. What was his 
 amazement and delight when he saw the lost 
 bill! 
 
 "Where did you get this, Sam?" he asked. 
 
 " I found it under a bush by the side of the 
 road, near the blacksmith's shop." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Shure it wasn't more'n five minutes." 
 
 " Do you know what was in the envelope? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You are sure no one gave you the letter to 
 hand to me? " said the grocer, with a search- 
 ing glance. 
 
 " Shure, I found it." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad to get it. You are a good 
 boy to bring it to me. Here's ten certs." 
 
 Sam took the money, as much surprised as . 
 pleased, for the grocer was considered, and i 
 justly, a very mean man. 
 
 ** Thank you, Mr. Jones," he said.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 115 
 
 " You are mire that Bert Barton didn't give 
 you the letter? " 
 
 " Yes, BIT. I haven't seen Bert since morn- 
 in'." 
 
 "Did you see any other boy near?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, I saw Percy Marlowe." 
 
 " Did he speak to you? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; he asked me what Fd got in my 
 hand." 
 
 "What did you say? " 
 
 " I showed him the letther." 
 
 "Did he say anything to you then?" 
 
 " He told me it was for you, and he said Pd 
 better take it right over to your store." 
 
 " He gave you good advice. Wait a minute, 
 and I'll do up a pound of sugar and send it to 
 your mother as a present" 
 
 " What's come to the old man? " thought 
 Sam. u Shure he's gettin' generous in his old 
 age ! " 
 
 " I wish I knew who took that bill," 
 thought the grocer meditatively. " However 
 I've got it back, and that's the main thing." 
 
 When Percy dropped the envelope, he re- 
 mained near at hand, and seeing Sam pick it 
 up, instructed him to carry it to the grocer. 
 
 He then breathed a sigh of relief, and felt 
 that he was lucky to get out of a bad scrape 
 so safely.
 
 u6 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AFTER THE TRIAL. 
 
 " MR CON WAY," said Bert, as they walked 
 home together from the trial, " I am very 
 grateful to you for getting me out of my 
 trouble. If you will let me know your fee, I 
 will pay it." 
 
 " My dear boy," rejoined the young lawyer, 
 " this is my vacation, and I only took up your 
 case to keep my hand in." 
 
 " You are very kind, and I shall always re- 
 member it." 
 
 " Lawyers are not always mercenary, 
 though they have that reputation with some. 
 I should like, by the way, to find out who did 
 steal the bill." 
 
 " So should I. I have no idea for my part." 
 
 " If you ever find out, let me know. I go 
 back to New York to-morrow, and am glad to 
 leave the memory of a professional triumph 
 behind me." 
 
 " What is your address, Mr. Conway? " 
 
 " No. Ill Nassau Street, Room 15. Here 
 is my card. When you come to New York, 
 call and see me." 
 
 " I shall do so, though it may be some time
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 117 
 
 in the future. Do you think I could get any- 
 thing to do in New York? " 
 
 " Yes ; but perhaps not enough to pay your 
 expenses." 
 
 " I find the same trouble here." 
 " You have been at work in the shoe fac- 
 tory, I believe." 
 
 "Yes; but I have been discharged. My 
 place has been taken by a machine." 
 
 " That is unfortunate. Is there no other 
 opening in Lakeville? " 
 
 " I have not found any yet." 
 
 " I will keep your case in mind, and if I 
 hear of anything I will let you know." 
 
 When Squire Marlowe returned home from 
 the trial, his wife inquired with interest, 
 " How did the case come out? " 
 
 " The boy was acquitted," answered her hus- 
 band shortly. 
 
 "Acquitted! Why, you thought it was a 
 close case." 
 
 " So I did, but it came out on the trial that 
 there were two twenty-dollar bills, and the one 
 which the Barton boy presented was left for 
 him by Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " By that old man? Why, I thought he was 
 poor." 
 
 " So he is worth only five hundred dollars,
 
 n8 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 and he is making ducks and drakes of that as 
 fast as he can." 
 
 " And then he will fall back on you? " 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " Then I hope you will let him go to the 
 poor house," said Mrs. Marlowe with energy. 
 
 " I shall. I have no pity for a man who 
 throws away his money." 
 
 Percy came home to dinner in lively spirits. 
 He was free from anxiety, and felt that he had 
 been remarkably fortunate. 
 
 " Were you at the trial, Percy?" asked his 
 mother. 
 
 " No, ma." 
 
 , " I thought you would be interested in see- 
 ing that boy on trial." 
 
 " I was sorry for him, and didn't want to 
 be present." 
 
 "Sorry for him?" 
 
 " Yes ; I felt sure he had not taken the 
 money." 
 
 " Seems to me this is a new streak, Percy," 
 said the squire. " I thought you didn't like 
 Bert Barton." 
 
 " I am not intimate with him, for he is only 
 a working boy; but all the same I don't want 
 him convicted when he is innocent." 
 
 " It is a mystery to me who could have
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 119 
 
 taken the other twenty-dollar bill," said the 
 squire. " Can you think of anybody? " 
 
 "No; how should I?" returned Percy, 
 nearly swallowing a spoonful of soup the 
 wrong way. 
 
 " There are so few people in the village, that 
 it must be some one we know." 
 
 " Perhaps old Jones didn't lose any money, 
 after all." 
 
 " There is no doubt on that point. The 
 stolen bill has been returned to him in an 
 envelope by Sam Doyle." 
 
 " Is that so? " exclaimed. Percy, counter- 
 feiting surprise. " Why, it must be the same 
 envelope Sam showed me." 
 
 " He showed you the envelope? " 
 
 " Yes; he' picked it up by the roadside. It 
 was directed in pencil to Mr. Jones. So that 
 contained the stolen bill?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then perhaps it was taken in joke." 
 
 "A poor joke! No; the thief got alarmed, 
 land took that way of returning it. I sug- 
 gested to Jones that the handwriting on the 
 envelope might furnish a clew to the thief." 
 
 " What did he say? " asked Percy, alarmed. 
 
 " He said he should do nothing about it, 
 now that he had the money back." 
 
 " I guess he's right," said Percy, relieved.
 
 120 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 In the afternoon Bert met Percy in the 
 street. He advanced cordially. 
 
 " Well, Percy, I got free, after all." 
 
 " Yes, I am glad of it." 
 
 " I feel grateful to you for believing in my 
 innocence." 
 
 " It's all right," said Percy, in a patronizing 
 tone. " Even if you are a working boy, I was 
 sure you wouldn't steal." 
 
 Bert's feelings cooled a little. Somehow 
 Percy's manner kept him aloof. 
 
 " Yes, I am a working boy," he replied, " or 
 at any rate I would like to be, but I don't find 
 it easy to get work." 
 
 "Just so! If I hear of anything I will let 
 you know. Good-morning!" 
 
 " I don't know what to make of Percy," 
 thought Bert, perplexed. " He was as kind 
 as he could be this morning, and now he is 
 offish. At any rate, he didn't believe me 
 guilty, and I won't forget that in a hurry." 
 
 Two more weeks passed, and Bert still 
 found himself unable to find employment. 
 Berries had become so plenty that he was un- 
 able to sell any, and only picked some for con- 
 sumption at home. The sum of money which 
 had been received from Uncle Jacob gradually 
 dwindled, and Bert became alarmed. What 
 would they do when it was all gone? He had
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 121 
 
 DO doubt that Uncle Jacob would give them 
 further assistance, if appealed to, but both 
 he and his mother felt that it would be an 
 imposition on the old man, with his limited 
 fund of money, to ask anything more of him. 
 
 " I don't want any more of Uncle Jacob's 
 money, mother," said Bert ; " but I should 
 like to ask him if he could find me a place in 
 Kew York." 
 
 " I couldn't bear to have you leave me, 
 Bert." 
 
 " But I must take work wherever I can find 
 it." 
 
 So Bert with his mother's permission, wrote 
 to Uncle Jacob, informing him of his dis- 
 charge from the factory, and his desire to ob- 
 tain work elsewhere. This letter reached 
 Jacob Marlowe, and led to his writing as fol- 
 lows to the squire: 
 
 NEPHEW ALBERT: 
 
 I hear by a letter from Lakeville that you 
 have discharged Bert Barton from your em- 
 ployment, and that he cannot secure any other 
 kind of work. I am surprised that you should 
 treat Mary's boy in this manner, considering 
 the relationship that exists between you. I 
 appeal to your better nature to reinstate him 
 in his old place. I can assure you that you
 
 122 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 will have no cause to regret it. I have steady 
 work here, and am quite well satisfied with my 
 position and prospects. 
 
 JACOB MARLOWE. 
 
 " The stupid old meddler ! " ejaculated the 
 squire, throwing the letter from him in impa- 
 tience. " I suppose the Barton boy has been 
 writing to him. He evidently considers it my 
 duty to support all my poor relations, himself 
 included. I will undeceive him on that point." 
 He drew writing materials toward him and 
 wrote as follows: 
 
 UNCLE JACOB: 
 
 I have received your letter asking me to re- 
 instate the Barton boy in his old place. This 
 is a business matter, and I don't permit any 
 interference with my business. I may add 
 that, even if he is a poor relation, I do not feel 
 called upon to support all my needy relations. 
 I am glad you have obtained a situation in 
 which you can make an honest living. I hope 
 you will keep it, and won't squander the small 
 sum of money you have in reserve. 
 Yours, etc., 
 
 ALBERT MAELOWE. 
 
 When Uncle Jacob read this letter, he 
 smiled. 
 
 " It is what I expected, " he said to himself.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 123 
 
 "Albert Marlowe is thoroughly selfish, and 
 so, I think, are his wife and son. I must find 
 some other way of helping Bert." 
 
 The day succeeding the receipt of Uncle 
 Jacob's letter, the squire met Bert in the post- 
 office. 
 
 " Have you been writing to Jacob Mar- 
 lowe? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I suppose you asked him to urge me to 
 take you back into the factory? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "At any rate, he has done so; but I allow 
 no one to interfere in my business affairs. 
 You hear, do you?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Then remember it ! " and Squire Marlowe 
 turned his back rudely upon Bert. 
 
 " Here ig a letter for you, Bert ! " said the 
 postmaster. 
 
 Bert opened the letter in some surprise, and 
 read it with interest and excitement. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BERT OBTAINS WORK. 
 
 To begin with, the letter, which Bert so un- 
 expectedly received, contained a ten-dollar 
 bill
 
 124 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " It must be from Uncle Jacob ! " he 
 thought. He turned to the next page, and 
 looked for the signature. It was, as he antici- 
 pated, Jacob Marlowe. It was brief, as will 
 be seen from the copy given below: 
 
 MY DEAR NEPHEW: i 
 
 I am sorry to hear that you have lost your 
 place in the factory. I think Albert Marlowe 
 might at any rate have retained you, knowing 
 how much you and 3<our mother needed your 
 weekly wages. I have written to him, asking 
 him to take you back into the shop, but I do 
 not suppose he will. It is more to test him 
 than anything else that I have made the re- 
 quest. But, at any rate, we will give him a 
 chance to deal considerately. Next week, 
 Thursday, if you should not have found work, 
 come up to the city and seek me at the office 
 where I am employed, No. Ill Nassau Street, 
 Room 19, and I may have it in my power to 
 employ you in an important matter. Bring 
 all ^?our clothes with you, but take only money 
 enough to get to the city, leaving the balance 
 with your mother. Give my love to her, and 
 tell her to keep up good courage. 
 
 Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 JACOB MARLOWE.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 125 
 
 " I am to go to New York ! " thought Bert 
 joyfully. " Perhaps Uncle Jacob will find me 
 a place there. I shall enjoy that ever so 
 much. Let me see, I am to go next week, 
 Thursday, and it is now Saturday. I wish 
 the time had come ! " 
 
 Of course, Bert carried the letter home and 
 showed it to his mother. 
 
 " How kind Uncle Jacob is ! " she mur- 
 mured. " But I am afraid he is too generous. 
 He is a poor man. He cannot afford to be giv- 
 ing us money all the time." 
 
 " He is earning a good salary, you know, 
 mother." 
 
 " Only twelve dollars a week, Bert." 
 
 " But that is a good deal. If I were earn- 
 ing twelve dollars a week I should feel rich." 
 
 "It doesn't go very far in a large and ex- 
 pensive city like New York." 
 
 " I could save half of it, if I had it. Would 
 you mind much, mother, if I should take a 
 place in New York? " 
 
 " It would be terribly lonely for me, Bert," 
 sighed Mrs. Barton. 
 
 " But you would not oppose it? " 
 
 " Not if your Uncle Jacob thought it best. 
 He seems to be our only friend just now." 
 
 " Yes ; I don't know what we should have 
 done without him."
 
 126 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 On Monday morning, considerably to his 
 surprise, Bert received an offer of employ- 
 ment. 
 
 About a mile from his mother's cottage lived 
 Silas Wilson, an old farmer about sixty years 
 of age, who had the reputation of being one of 
 the meanest men in Lakeville. Even his 
 horses and cows had a hungry look, and it 
 was easy to see that they were not pampered, 
 or injured by over-feeding. This was the man 
 who stopped his farm wagon in front of Mrs 1 . 
 Barton's dwelling, and spoke to Bert, who 
 was just coming out of the front door. 
 
 " Here, you, Bert Barton ! " 
 
 "Good-morning, Mr. Wilson," replied Bert. 
 
 " Squire Marlowe tells me you are out of a 
 job." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And I've been thinkin' I could give you 
 work on my farm." 
 
 Bert was not overjoyed at this announce- 
 ment, but he felt that he ought to take into 
 consideration any offer that might be made to 
 him. 
 
 " Would you expect me to board at your 
 house? " he asked. 
 
 " Sartin! All my boys board with me." 
 
 " How much wages would you be willing to 
 pay? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 127 
 
 " Fifty cents a week and board. I calculate 
 that would be about right." 
 
 " Fifty cents a week and board? " repeated 
 Bert, by no means dazzled by the tempting 
 offer. 
 
 " Yes. What do you say? " 
 
 " I shouldn't be willing to work for that." 
 
 " You wouldn't, hey? " What did you get in 
 the shoe shop? " 
 
 " Four dollars a week." 
 
 " Board's worth that, so I give you what's 
 equal to four dollars and a half." 
 
 Bert had heard something of the kind of 
 board supplied by the farmer, and he was 
 hardly prepared to rate it so high. 
 
 " It wouldn't be worth that to me," he said. 
 " I would rather work for three dollars and a 
 half in cash, and board at home." 
 
 " I've got to have my boy in the house," 
 said Silas Wilson decidedly. " Come, now, 
 what do you say? " 
 
 He regarded Bert with some anxiety, for 
 he had been suddenly left in the lurch by 
 a hired man who had received a better offer 
 elsewhere, and hardly knew where to turn for 
 assistance. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do," said Bert. 
 " I've got to go to New York on Thursday on 
 business, but I'll come and work for you till
 
 ia8 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Wednesday night for half a dollar and my 
 board." 
 
 " I'll give you thirty-five cents," replied the 
 farmer cautiously. 
 
 Bert shook his head. 
 
 " Forty, then, and that's high pay for a half- 
 grown boy." 
 
 " I'm more than half grown," returned Bert. 
 " It's no use, Mr. Wilson, I won't take less 
 than fifty cents." 
 
 " Then jump on the wagon. It's a big price 
 to pay, but I'm in a hole, and won't stop to 
 dicker." 
 
 " I will go and tell my mother first." 
 
 " Well, hurry up, for part of the day Is 
 gone already." 
 
 " I don't believe you'll like it, Bert," said 
 Mrs. Barton. 
 
 " Nor I, but I made up my mind to accept 
 the first offer I got, and I shall feel better sat- 
 isfied if I keep my word. I'll come round this 
 evening, after work, and tell you how I like 
 it as far as I've got." 
 
 Bert seated himself in the wagon next to the 
 farmer. 
 
 " Be you the boy that Jones charged with 
 stealin'? " asked Silas. 
 " Yes, sir."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 129 
 
 "You didn't do it?" asked Silas, in some 
 apprehension. 
 
 " No, of course not ! " answered Bert, indig- 
 nantly. " Didn't you know I was acquitted, 
 and that it was shown that there were two 
 twenty-dollar bills? " 
 
 " It's wicked to steal," observed the farmer, 
 apparently a little anxious still. 
 
 " Of course it is." 
 
 " One of the boys that worked for me stole 
 some money from a chest-of-drawers in my 
 chamber. You see Mis' Wilson and me sleep 
 in a bedroom on the first floor openin' out of 
 the settiii' room." 
 
 "Did the boy take much?" asked Bert, in 
 some curiosity. 
 
 " Yes ; he took a twenty-five cent piece," 
 answered Silas Wilson, soberly. 
 
 Bert wanted to laugh, but controlled his 
 facial muscles, though he eyed his companion 
 with a queer look. 
 
 " That was a good deal of money," he said, 
 soberly. 
 
 " Yes, it was." 
 
 " How did you find him out the boy, I 
 mean?" 
 
 " He spent the money at Jones's store." 
 
 " What did he buy with it? " 
 
 " He bought some doughnuts."
 
 130 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Did he board with you? " asked Bert sig- 
 nificantly. 
 
 " Yes, he did." 
 
 "Then," thought Bert, "I don't wonaer 
 much that he was tempted." 
 
 " I've got fifty cents in my pocket," he said 
 aloud, producing the coin. " I show it to you, 
 so that if you hear of my spending money you 
 needn't think I took it from you." 
 
 Silas Wilson eyed the half-dollar with a 
 covetous took, which the sight of money al- 
 ways brought to his face. 
 
 " Hadn't you better give it to me to keep 
 for you? " 
 
 " No, thank you ; I am very careful. I shall 
 not lose it." 
 
 " Boys ginerally are keerless. They are apt 
 to lose money." 
 
 " I don't believe you ever lose money, Mr. 
 Wilson " 
 
 " Not since I was a boy. I lost two cents 
 once, but it was a lesson to me, and I've never 
 lost a copper since." 
 
 By this time they had reached the farm- 
 house. The farmer drove into the barn and 
 put up the horse. 
 
 " Now we'll go to work," he said. 
 
 The work which awaited Bert was in the 
 cornfield. He was set to hoeing, and kept it
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 131 
 
 np for three hours, along with the farmer in 
 the adjoining row. Noon came, and Silas, 
 pausing in his work, said: "I calculate Mis' 
 Wil-on will have dinner ready. We'll go to 
 the house." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 BEET'S EXPERIENCE AS A FARMER'S BOY. 
 
 BERT followed the farmer into the kitchen, 
 in the center of which a table was set. A 
 bony and angular woman was just placing on 
 it a large pitcher of water. 
 
 " Mis 1 ' Wilson," said the farmer, " this is 
 Bert Barton, who is helping me about the 
 farm work." 
 
 Bert was* no stranger to Mrs. Wilson, whose 
 pew in church was near the one he occupied. 
 
 "How's your ma?" she inquired jerkily. 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you, Mrs. Wilson." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it. She looks like a 
 friend of mine, Mrs. Dusenberry, who died of 
 heart disease." 
 
 " I don't think her heart is affected," said 
 Bert, not without anxiety. 
 
 " Maybe not, but you can't tell. Folks 
 lives along for years with their hearts out -f 
 kilter, who never find it out till some day they 
 drop dead." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson decidedly was not a cheerful
 
 132 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 converser. She prided herself on detecting 
 signs of unsuspected diseases. 
 
 " Mebbe you've got heart disease yourself, 
 Sophia," remarked the farmer jocosely. 
 
 " Just as likely as not," answered Mrs. Wil- 
 son calmly. " I'm sure my liver's affected, 
 for I feel it squirm sometimes." 
 
 " Mebbe I'd better look out for a second 
 Mis' Wilson," suggested the farmer smiling. 
 
 " You ain't over healthy yourself, Silas," 
 responded his better half, surveying her hus- 
 band in a business-like manner. " It looks to 
 me as if your kidneys was out of order, and 
 you're the very image of Jed Petti bone, who 
 died of apoplexy. He lived next door to my 
 mother. One day he was alive and well, and 
 to-morrow he was as the grass of the field." 
 
 The farmer's face wore a very uncomfort- 
 able look, and he was evidently by no means 
 pleased with his wife's prognostications. 
 
 " Nonsense! " he said testily. " I'm as well 
 as any man of my age in Lakeville." 
 
 " ' Boast not thyself of to-morrow ' ! " 
 quoted Mrs. Wilson solemnly. 
 
 " Come, Bert, let us set down to dinner," 
 said Silas hastily. " What have you got for 
 us, Sophia?" 
 
 " I've warmed over them beans we had yes- 
 terday," answered his helpmeet, " and there's
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 two sausages besides. I don't want any. 
 You'd ought to make a dinner off of that." 
 
 " Why, to be sure ! Beans and sausages is 
 hearty, and will stand by us in the field. The 
 laborer is worthy of his meat." 
 
 " Where's the meat/' thought Bert. 
 
 Silas Wilson put a moderate portion of 
 beans on a large plate, flanking it with a 
 thin, consumptive-looking sausage. 
 
 "Help yourself to potatoes," he said, as he 
 handed the plate to Bert. 
 
 Bert availed himself of the invitation, and 
 helped himself to a potato in that condition 
 known as soggy. He tried to eat it, but. 
 though fond of potatoes, he left it almost en- 
 tire on his plate. This, however, was not all. 
 There was a plate of rye-bread on the table, 
 from which Bert helped himself to a slice. It 
 was apparently two or three days old, and 
 needed something to make it palatable. 
 
 " Please give me some butter," asked Bert, 
 not having observed that this was a prohibited 
 article on the Wilsons' dinner table. 
 
 " There ain't none," answered Mrs. Wjlson 
 promptly. 
 
 " I beg pardon. I hadn't noticed," said 
 Bert, blushing. 
 
 " We never have butter at dinner," ex- 
 plained Silas Wilson. " It's apt to lead to
 
 134 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 humors, particularly in boys, isn't it, Mis' 
 Wilson?" 
 
 " So I've always heard, Silas. Besides, as 
 we have it at breakfast an.d supper, that's 
 enough. It goes fast enough, even then. 
 Why, we used most a pound last week." 
 
 "And butter twenty-seven cents a pound!" 
 chimed in the farmer. " Why, it's extrava- 
 gant!" 
 
 " Do you know, Silas, how much butter is 
 used in Squire Marlowe's family? " 
 
 " No," answered the farmer, with interest. 
 
 " Hannah Mrs. Marlowe's girl told me 
 they used six pounds and a half last week, 
 and there's only four of them, including the 
 girl. What do you think of that? " 
 
 "What do I think? I think it's sinful 
 positively sinful! Six pounds and a half at 
 twenty-seven cents 
 
 " They pay thirty-two, and get the best in 
 the market," amended his wife. 
 
 " Worse and worse ! That comes to what 
 Bert? " 
 
 " Two dollars and eight cents," answered 
 Bert promptly. 
 
 "Sho! Did you ever?" 
 
 " Well, I s'pose the squire can stand it. No 
 doubt they live on the fat of the land. I just 
 wish they'd invite me to tea, so I could judge
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 135 
 
 for myself. I could tell within five cents how 
 much the supper cost." 
 
 It must be confessed that Bert did not en- 
 joy his dinner. The sausage was far from rich 
 or juicy, and the beans were almost cold. The 
 potatoes and bread have already been referred 
 to. However, there was to be a second course, 
 and to that Bert looked forward anxiously, for 
 he had by no means satisfied his appetite. It 
 was a plain rice pudding, and partially satis- 
 factory, for it takes very little skill to boil 
 rice, and there is little variety in the qual- 
 ity. By way of sauce Mrs. Wilson provided 
 cheap grade of molasses. Still Bert enjoyed 
 it better than any other article on the table. 
 
 " There's nothing like a good dinner to 
 strengthen us for the labors of the field," said 
 Silas Wilson complacently, as he rose from 
 the table. 4< Come, Bert, now let us get to 
 work to make up for lost time." 
 
 " So Mr. Wilson considers the time spent 
 in eating as lost time," thought Bert. " I'd 
 rather have one of mother's dinners than half 
 a dozen like this. Ugh ! how nasty those pota- 
 toes were." 
 
 Bert returned to the field, and resumed his 
 work. He found it hard to keep up with Silas 
 Wilson, whose energies seemed to be quick- 
 ened by his midday meal.
 
 136 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 About four o'clock a man came along who 
 wanted to see Silas on business, and he went 
 back to the house, leaving Bert to continue his 1 
 work alone. 
 
 " This is about the longest day I ever 
 passed," thought Bert, pausing to wipe his 
 moistened forehead. " I am afraid I shall 
 never want to be a farmer. I mustn't for- 
 get, though, that I am to receive sixteen cents 
 and a little over per day, besides board and 
 such board ! Yet this is the way Siias Wilson 
 has lived all his life, and he must be sixty-five 
 at least. How much more enjoyment Uncle 
 Jacob has out of life, though he is a poor man 
 compared to the farmer." 
 
 At this moment he heard wheels passing on 
 the road hard by, and looking up he recog- 
 nized Percy Marlowe, neat and trim in hid 
 attire, driving a light buggy. 
 
 " Hallo ! " called out Percy, checking his 
 horse. 
 
 " Hallo, Percy ! " 
 
 "Are you working for Silas Wilson?'' 
 
 " Yes, for a few days." 
 
 "I guess you'll make a foitune in that 
 time?" said Percy laughing. 
 
 " It seems like it," responded Bert. 
 
 "How much does he pay you?" 
 
 "Fifty cents for three days and board."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 137 
 
 Percy laughed, 
 
 " I should want fifty cents an hour, and 
 then I wouldn't do it." 
 
 "I'd work all the year round at that price," 
 said Bert. 
 
 " I never expect to work with my hands," 
 went on Percy. 
 
 " Have you decided what to do? " asked 
 Bert curiously. 
 
 " My father wants me to be a manufacturer, 
 but I think I shall be a lawyer." 
 
 " I am afraid I shan't have much choice. I 
 must take what I can get." 
 
 " You might stay with Mr. Wilson and be a 
 farmer." 
 
 " I don't think that will suit me at any rate, 
 unless I can work for a different man." 
 
 " Perhaps father can take you back into the 
 shop when you are older." 
 
 " I wish he would take me back now. I like 
 it a great deal better than working out in the 
 field here." . 
 
 " You mustn't get too high notions into 
 your head, Bert. You know you are a work- 
 ing boy and mustn't expect to have things all 
 your own way." 
 
 " I am not likely to forget that I am a work- 
 ing boy, especially with kind friends to re- 
 mind me of it But we live in the best coun-
 
 138 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 try in the world, and there is many a working 
 boy who grows up to be a distinguished man." 
 
 Percy laughed ironically. 
 
 " I wouldn't get such silly ideas into your 
 head, he said. 
 
 " Why are they silly? " 
 
 " You talk as if you expected to be a distin- 
 guished man. Ha, ha ! " 
 
 " I hope to be a successful man," answered 
 Bert stoutly. 
 
 Percy laughed again and drove on. Five 
 minutes later Bert saw the farmer running 
 from the house in a state of great apparent 
 excitement. 
 
 " Have you seen anything of my wallet? " 
 he gasped, as he came within hearing dis' 
 tance. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 BEET IS PLACED IN AN EMBARRASSING 
 POSITION. 
 
 BERT regarded his employer with surprise. 
 
 " Your wallet? " he repeated. 
 
 " Yes," answered Silas Wilson impatiently. 
 " I had it in my pocket when I was at work 
 here. I didn't think about it till just now, 
 after Mr. Dexter had left me. Then I found 
 that my pocket was empty."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 139 
 
 " I haven't seen it, but you may have 
 dropped it somewhere." 
 
 " Just help me look for it. Has anybody 
 been here? " 
 
 " No ; at least not in the field. Percy Mar- 
 lowe passed in his buggy, and " 
 
 " Never mind about that. Help me look for 
 the wallet." 
 
 The rows of corn were of considerable 
 length, and there were a good many of them. 
 At least ten minutes elapsed before anything 
 was seen of the mis-sing article, and dark sus- 
 picions of his young assistant entered the 
 mind of Mr. Wilson. But at last Bert's 
 sharp eyes espied a faded leather wallet be- 
 tween two hills in one of the rows which the 
 farmer had hoed. 
 
 " Is this it? " he asked, holding it up in his 
 hand. 
 
 " Yes ! " exclaimed Silas delighted. 
 " Where did you find it? " 
 
 "Just here." 
 
 Mr. Wilson opened it, anxious to see 
 whether the contents were intact. 
 
 " It's all safe," he said, with a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Was there much money in it? " asked 
 Bert. 
 
 " Yes ; two dollars and sixty-seven cents.
 
 140 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 It's a narrow escape! Suppose a dishonest 
 person had found it? " 
 
 "It would have been terrible!" said Bert, 
 successfully checking his disposition to laugh. 
 
 " I'm much obliged to you, Bert, for findin' 
 it. I suppose you don't want any reward? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! I am working for you, you know, 
 and it wasn't my own time I was using." 
 
 "That's true! Still, I am willin' to give 
 you two cents to encourage you to be honest." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Wilson ; but I don't need 
 any reward for that." 
 
 " You're a good boy, and ? f you stay with 
 me I'll make a man of you." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 Bert was privately of opinion that if he re- 
 mained till the age of twenty-one in Silas Wil- 
 son's employ, boarding at his table, he would 
 grow into a very thin, under-sized man in- 
 deed. 
 
 Supper was a less substantial meal tha* 
 dinner in the Wilson household, consisting of 
 bread and butter and tea, with the addition of 
 a plate of doughnuts, which were so tough 
 and hard that it occurred to Bert that they 
 would make very good baseballs if they had 
 been of the right shape. 
 
 4fter supper he went home for an hour.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 141 
 
 " Don't you feel very tired, Bert? " asked 
 his mother. 
 
 " Yes, mother, but I feel still more hungry. 
 If you've got anything left from supper I 
 think I can dispose of it." 
 
 " Certainly, Bert; but didn't you eat supper 
 at Mr. Wilson's? " 
 
 " Mother, they don't know what good living 
 is there. I'd rather have one of your suppers 
 than a dozen of Mr. Wilson's. I begin to 
 think that the board part won't be worth 
 over fifty cents for three days. I am sure it 
 won't cost them any more." 
 
 " I wish you were going to sleep here, Bert. 
 I shall feel lonely." 
 
 " So do I, but I shall only be away two 
 nights. Silas Wilson promises to make a man 
 of me if I'll stay, but I'd rather grow to man- 
 hood somewhere else." 
 
 Bert returned to the farm-house, and about 
 half-past eight went to bed. He knew he 
 must be early astir, and he felt fatigued by his 
 day of labor in the field. Besides, Mr. and 
 Mrs. "Wilson went to bed at this hour. The 
 farmer was not fond of reading, nor indeed 
 was there anything in the house to read, for 
 neither he nor his wife had a literary taste. 
 Once he took an agricultural paper for a year 
 at a cost of two dollars, but whenever the
 
 142 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 paper arrived he groaned 5n spirit over the 
 cost, and deplored his extravagance in sub- 
 scribing for it. 
 
 The room assigned to Bert was over the 
 kitchen, which was in the ell part. The roof 
 was sloping, and, toward the eaves, very low. 
 There was one window near the bed which he 
 occupied. 
 
 Bert went to sleep in ten minutes, and slept 
 soundly for three or four hours. Then some- 
 thing roused him, and he opened his eyes. 
 What he saw startled him. By the bright 
 moonlight he perceived a man climbing in at 
 the window. 
 
 To say that Bert was perfectly calm would 
 not be true. He was very much startled, as I 
 think almost any boy, or man either, would 
 have been under the circumstances. 
 
 " It is a burglar ! " thought Bert in excite- 
 ment. "What can I do?" 
 
 Some one evidently had heard of Silas Wil- 
 son's miserly disposition, and judged that 
 there would be a good chance to secure booty 
 in the farm house. Bert, though he did not 
 admire Mr. Wilson, felt that it was his duty 
 to protect him from being plundered, if possi- 
 ble. He knew that he was in some personal 
 peril, but he was naturally a brave boy, and 
 his spirit rose to the occasion.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 143 
 
 He waited until the supposed burglar was 
 in the room, and then, sitting up in bed, asked 
 stoutly: "Who are you? What brings you 
 here? " 
 
 The man turned swiftly toward the bed, and 
 fixed his eyes on Bert, but did not immediately 
 speak. 
 
 "If you are a burglar," continued Bert, em- 
 boldened by the man's hesitation, " you had 
 better get out of the window again, or I shall 
 call Mr. Wilson." 
 
 " No, don't call him, at least not yet," said 
 the intruder, sinking into a chair a few feet 
 from the bed. " Are you working here? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " W T ho are you?" 
 
 This seemed a singular question. What 
 could his name matter to a burglar? How- 
 ever, Bert answered mechanically, " My name 
 is Bert Barton." 
 
 " The widow Barton's boy? " 
 
 " Yes; how do you know that?" demanded 
 Bert, in bewilderment. 
 
 " Don't you know me? " was the unexpected 
 rejoinder. 
 
 He drew nearer to the bed, and Bert gafced 
 at him earnestly, but no light dawned upon 
 him.
 
 144 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " No, I don't know you," he said, shaking 
 Ibis head. 
 
 " I am Silas Wilson's son," said the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Phineas Wilson? " 
 
 Now Bert remembered that eight years be- 
 fore, the farmer's son, a man grown, had left 
 Lakeville, and, so far as he knew, had not been 
 heard of since. He had contracted a habit of 
 drinking and had tired of farm work. More* 
 over, when he left, he had taken fifty dollars 
 of his father's money with him, which had led 
 to bitter feelings on the part of the farmer, 
 who appeared to mourn the loss of his money 
 more than that of his son. And this was the 
 young man who had crept into his father's 
 house like a thief in the night. 
 
 " Why did you get into my window? " asked 
 Bert. " Why didn't you come to the door? " 
 
 " I didn't know if I would be welcome. I 
 wanted to ask. Do you know how my father 
 feels toward me?" 
 
 I " No ; I have only been here one day. He 
 j ought to be glad to see his son." 
 
 " I took some money with me when I went 
 away," said Phineas hesitating. " Fathers 
 very fond of money." 
 
 " Yes," assented Bert. 
 
 " And he would find it hard to forget that."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 145 
 
 " Why didn't you come back before? " 
 
 " I didn't dare to come till I could bring the 
 money. I have got it with me, but not a dol- 
 lar more. If you want to know what brings 
 me back, look in my face and see for your- 
 self." 
 
 The moon came out from behind a cloud, 
 and by its light Bert saw that the young man's 
 face was thin and ghastly. 
 
 " I am sick," he said; " irregular hours and 
 whiskey have done their work. I am afraid 
 I have got to pass in my checks." 
 
 " What does that mean die? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Don't give up!" said Bert, feeling his 
 sympathies go out toward this prodigal son. 
 " You are young. It takes a good deal to kill 
 ;a young man." 
 
 " You're a good fellow, Bert. That's your 
 jname, isn't it? Will you do me a favor? " 
 
 "To be sure I will." 
 
 " I am famished. I haven't had anything 
 'to eat for twenty-four hours. Can you slip 
 downstairs and fetch me something to eat 
 no matter what and a glass of milk? " 
 
 Bert hesitated. He could get what was re- 
 quired in the pantry, but suppose the farmer 
 or his wife should wake up! It would make 
 his position a very awkward one.
 
 146 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Hadn't you better go down yourself? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " I can hardly stand, I am so tired. Be- 
 sides, I don't know where mother keeps 
 things." 
 
 " I will try," said Bert ; and he slipped on 
 his pantaloons, and went softly downstairs. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISIT TO THE PANTRY. 
 
 "SUPPOSE Mrs. Wilson sees me?'' thought 
 Bert uncomfortably. " She will take me for 
 a thief." 
 
 He was actuated by the kindest motives, but 
 he heartily wished his errand were done. As 
 he stepped into the kitchen he heard the deep 
 breathing of Mrs. Wilson and the noisy snore 
 of her husband, and rightly judged that it 
 would not be easy to rouse either of them. He 
 opened the pantry door, and by the light of the 
 moon was able to inspect the shelves. There 
 was a half loaf of bread on one shelf, half a 
 dozen doughnuts on a plate on the shelf below, 
 and a few cold beans close beside them. Then 
 there was a small pitcher half-full of milk. 
 
 " I don't think the beans or doughnuts will 
 set well on an empty stomach," Bert reflected.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 147 
 
 " I'd better take the milk and two or three 
 slices of bread." 
 
 Here the cat, who had been asleep on the 
 hearth, roused herself, perhaps at the sight of 
 the milk pitcher, and, mewing loudly, rubbed 
 herself against Bert's legs. 
 
 " Scat ! " cried Bert, in a low voice, anx- 
 iously looking toward the door of the bed 
 chamber in which the farmer and his wife lay 
 asleep. 
 
 The cat got between his legs and nearly 
 tripped him up, but he managed to get out of 
 the room and upstairs. Phineas looked at 
 him eagerly. 
 
 " I have some bread and milk here," said 
 Bert. " I couldn't find any butter. There 
 were some cold beans and doughnuts, but " 
 
 " The bread and milk are better. Give 
 them to me. I am almost famished." 
 
 The bread was dry and stale, but Phineas 
 was not in the mood to be particular. He ate 
 like one famished, and drained the pitcher to 
 the last drop. 
 
 " I feel better," he said then, with a sigh of 
 relief. 
 
 " I suppose I had better take the pitcher 
 back to the kitchen. It will be missed," re- 
 flected Bert, and he started downstairs again 
 in his bare feet. He paused at the kitchen
 
 148 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 door, and heard the farmer talking to hia 
 sleep. This alarmed him. He decided that it 
 would not do to replace the pitcher in the 
 pantry, as he would be likely to be heard. He 
 waited where he was- for five minutes, and 
 then ventured into the kitchen. This time he 
 was successful, and with mind relieved re- 
 turned to his chamber. 
 
 Phineas was dozing in his chair. 
 
 " You had better get into the bed, Mr. Wil- 
 son," said Bert, filled with compassion for the 
 weary wayfarer. " I'll lie on the floor." 
 
 " If you don't mind. I am fagged out." 
 
 Bert made a pillow of his coat and trousers^ 
 and stretched himself on the floor. He found 
 that there was an inside bolt, with which ht 
 fastened the door, to guard against any unex* 
 pected visit from Mr. or Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 He fell asleep again, and was only roused 
 by a loud voice at the foot of the back stairs. 
 
 " Time to get up ! " called the farmer. 
 
 " All right ! " responded Bert in a loud 
 tone. 
 
 Fortunately Silas Wilson did not think it 
 necessary to come up. Had he done so it 
 would have been embarrassing, for Phineas 
 was sound asleep on the bed. Bert thought 
 it best to rouse him before he went down 
 stairs.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 149 
 
 " Are you not afraid some one will come up- 
 stairs and find you here? " he asked. 
 
 " No ; mother never comes up till after she 
 has got breakfast out of the way and the 
 dishes washed." 
 
 " I suppose you know best," said Bert 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " If necessary I shall tell her who I am." 
 
 Bert went below, and sat down at the break- 
 fast table. It was clear from the expression 
 on Mrs. Wilson's face that she had something 
 on her mind. 
 
 " Silas," she said solemnly, " something 
 mysterious has happened during the night." 
 
 " What is it? " asked the farmer in a tone 
 of surprise. 
 
 " We have been robbed ! " 
 
 " What of? " he asked, turning pale. " Do 
 you miss any of the spoons? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Or or money? " and he pulled out his 
 wallet hurriedly. 
 
 " No, no, it isn't that." 
 
 "What is it, then?" 
 
 " I left that pitcher half full of milk when 
 I went to bed last night. This morning there 
 wasn't a drop in it, and the pantry door was 
 open." 
 
 "Cats are fond of nr'lk," suggested Silas,
 
 150 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 with a glance at Tabby, who was lying near 
 the fire-place. 
 
 " It wasn't the cat. She couldn't get her 
 head inside the pitcher. Besides, there are 
 three slices of bread missing." 
 
 " Won't cats eat bread? " 
 
 "It was a two-legged cat!" replied Mrs. 
 Wilson significantly. 
 
 Bert reddened in spite of himself, and tried 
 to look unconscious. He saw that Mrs. Wil- 
 son was on the point of making a discovery, 
 and that suspicion was likely to fall upon 
 him. This he could clear up, but it would be 
 at the expense of the poor fellow who was 
 asleep upstairs. 
 
 " But how could anybody get into the 
 house? " asked Silas. " The doors were 
 locked, weren't they?" 
 
 " Yes, Silas. In forty years I have never 
 failed to lock the door before I went to bed." 
 
 " Then I don't see " 
 
 " Nor I yet ! " said Mrs. Wilson signifi- 
 cantly, and Bert thought but he may have 
 been mistaken that her eyes turned for a mo- 
 ment in his direction. 
 
 " At any rate it isn't much of a loss. Was 
 there anything else in the closet? " 
 
 " There were some doughnuts and beans." 
 
 "Were any of them taken?" 

 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 151 
 
 "No, not that I can see." 
 
 " Cats don't care for them." 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Silas ! That poor cat had 
 no more to do with the robbery than I have." 
 
 " Mebbe you're right; but cats have been 
 known to steal. I like dogs better myself." 
 
 " I don't ! " cried Mrs. Wilson with em- 
 phasis. * I'm not going to have any x dog 
 trapesing over my floors with his muddy feet." 
 
 " Just as you like, Sophia. You'd better 
 lock the pantry door in future." 
 
 " I'm not sure that that will answer, unless 
 I hide the key." 
 
 " Do you seriously think a human being 
 took the things?" 
 
 " Yes, I do in the middle of the night." 
 
 " By gracious ! that's serious, de might 
 have come into our room and taken my wallet 
 and watch.'' 
 
 " And maybe murdered us in our beds ! " 
 added Mrs. Wilson grimly. 
 
 " Did you hear anybody walking round the 
 house last night, Bert?" asked the farmer, 
 who was by this time worked up into a state 
 of agitation. 
 
 " No," answered Bert. 
 
 " I am glad he did not ask me whether I 
 saw anybody," thought he. " I don't want to 
 tell a lie."
 
 152 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " I usually sleep pretty sound," he added, a 
 little ashamed of his duplicity, yet not know- 
 ing how else to avert suspicions. 
 
 "So we all do!" said the farmer's wife. 
 " We might be all murdered in our beds with- 
 out knowing anything about it." 
 
 " I shouldn't want to know anything about 
 it if that was going to happen," observed 
 Silas, not without reason. " I don't think it 
 could have been a very desperate ruffian, if he 
 contented himself with taking bread and 
 milk." 
 
 " He may come again to-night," suggested 
 Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " I hope not," said Silas fervently. " I I 
 couldn't sleep if I thought so." 
 
 " We must get to the bottom of this," went 
 on his wife resolutely. " I am not willing to 
 have such goings on in my house." 
 
 " How are you going to do it, Sophia? 
 Probably the thief's miles off by this time." 
 
 " He may be, or he may not be! " said Mrs. 
 Wilson in an oracular tone. 
 
 " I've heard of folks walking in their sleep," 
 she added, after a pause. 
 
 " You don't mean me? " asked Silas. 
 
 " No; if you did it I'd have had a chance to 
 find out in forty years. Do you ever walk iiv
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 153 
 
 your sleep? " she asked, turning suddenly to 
 Bert. 
 
 The question was so unexpected that he 
 could not help changing color, and this served 
 to increase Mrs*. Wilson's dawning suspicions. 
 
 " Not that I ever heard of," Bert answered, 
 after a pause. 
 
 " I knew a boy once that did it was a 
 second cousin of my brother's first wife." 
 
 " I am sure I never get up in my sleep." 
 
 The door leading into the entry from which 
 the back-stairs ascended was open, and 
 through this, just at this moment, was heard 
 a sound that startled all three who were sit- 
 ting at the breakfast table. 
 
 It was a loud, unmistakeable sneeze, and it 
 came from the chamber which Bert had occu- 
 pied. 
 
 The farmer and his wife started as if the 
 house had been shaken by an exploding bomb- 
 shell. Both turned as pale as death, looked 
 fearfully at each other, and clutched tightly 
 at the edges of the table. 
 
 " Silas ! " said Mrs*. Wilson, in a hollow 
 voice, " the burglar is upstairs ! "
 
 154 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A PANIC AT FARMER WILSON'S. 
 
 SILAS WILSON was not a brave man, and 
 at his wife's suggestion he turned pale, and 
 looked panic-stricken. 
 
 " Do you think so? " he asked feebly. 
 
 " Do I think so? I know so," returned Mrs. 
 Wilson energetically. 
 
 " How could he get up there? " 
 
 Mrs. Wilson walked to the window, and 
 her lynx eyes detected the ladder by which 
 Phineas had climbed to the window of Bert's 
 room. 
 
 "Do you see that?" she asked. 
 
 It is rather surprising that she did not sus- 
 pect Bert of knowing something about the 
 matter, but she had not yet had time to put 
 two and two together. 
 
 " It's terrible ! " murmured Silas, mopping 
 the cold perspiration from his forehead. 
 " What can we do? " 
 
 " What can we do? Go and get your gun, 
 Silas, and go up and confront the villain. 
 That's what we can do." 
 
 Somehow the suggestion did not seem to 
 favor with Mr. Wilson.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 155 
 
 " He would shoot me," he said. " He's 
 probably waitin' for me with a loaded weepun 
 upon the landin'." 
 
 " Silas Wilson, I am ashamed of you. Are 
 you going' to let a villainous burglar rampage 
 round upstairs, stealin' whatever he can lay 
 his hands on? Come now!" 
 
 " I believe you care more for the few things 
 upstairs than for your husband's life," said 
 Silas reproachfully. 
 
 " Do you want me to go, Silas? What'll 
 the folks in the village say when they hear of 
 it?" 
 
 " I don't know as I know where the gun is," 
 said Silas nervously. 
 
 " It's out in the woodshed behind the door." 
 
 " I don't know as it's loaded. Besides I 
 wouldn't want to be took up for murder." 
 
 " Not much danger, Silas Wilson ! Such 
 men as you don't get into such scrapes as 
 that." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson went out into the woodshed, 
 and returned, holding the gun in such a way 
 that it pointed directly at her husband. 
 
 " Don't you know no better than to p'int 
 that gun at me, Sophia?" exclaimed Silas in 
 no little terror. " Beats all what fools wo- 
 men are about firearms." 
 
 " They may be fools, but they ain't cow-
 
 156 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 ards," returned Mrs. Wilsxm. " Come, are 
 you going up or not? " 
 
 " Hadn't I better go to the foot of the stairs 
 and fire up? " asked Silas with a bright idea. 
 
 " And then he'd come down on you, when 
 your gun was discharged, and run his bayonet 
 into you," said Mrs. Wilson, who knew that 
 at the battle of Bunker Hill the muskets had 
 bayonets attached. 
 
 "I'll give him warnin'!" continued Silas. 
 " It'll only be fair. He'll probably be fright- 
 ened and climb down the ladder." 
 
 " I never did see such a 'fraid cat in my 
 life!" quoth Mrs. Wilson contemptuously. 
 
 " Mebbe you're braver'n I be. If you are, 
 go up yourself!" said Silas Wilson angrily. 
 
 " You want to put your wife in danger, do 
 you?" returned Mrs. Wilson, w*ho was as 
 averse to facing the burglar as her husband, 
 though she talked more courageously. 
 
 " And you want to expose your husband to 
 danger," retorted Silas, " so it's an even thing, 
 so far as I can see." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that Bert en- 
 joyed the dispute between the husband and 
 wife, though he maintained an outward 
 gravity which helped him to conceal his secret 
 amusement. By this time he thought it time 
 for him to take part.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 157 
 
 "I'll go up," he said. 
 
 "You will?" exclaimed Silas in surprise 
 and relief. 
 
 " Yes, I am not afraid." 
 
 " To be sure ! The burglar wouldn't do you 
 no harm. You're only a boy. Do you know 
 how to fire a gun? " 
 
 " Yes, but I shan't need the gun. I am sure 
 the burglar wouldn't harm me." 
 
 " You're a brave boy, Bert," said the 
 farmer. " You're doing just what I would 
 have done at your age." 
 
 " You never would have done it, Silas ! I 
 should be ashamed anyway to own up I was 
 more of a coward as a grown man than as 
 a boy." 
 
 " Sophia, you don't know much about burg- 
 lars and their ways. Don't be afraid, Bert; 
 I'll back you up; I'll stand at the door of the 
 kitchen with the gun in my hand, and help 
 you if you need it." 
 
 Bert smiled, for he knew just how valuable 
 Silas Wilson's assistance would be, but he 
 made no comment, and started on his perilous 
 enterprise. 
 
 " I hope he won't come to no harm," said 
 Mrs. Wilson. " I don't know but I'd better 
 go with him."
 
 158 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " It would be safer for you, Sophia, for 
 burglars don't shoot women." 
 
 " Much you know about it, Silas." 
 
 The two moved toward the kitchen door, 
 Silas handling the gun as if he were afraid of 
 it. They listened with painful attention, and 
 presently heard the sound of voices, though 
 they could not make out what was being said. 
 
 The boy's speakin' to him ! " said Silas, 
 awe-struck. " I never see such a terrible 
 time. I wish I'd told Bert to tell the burg- 
 lar to go back the same way he came, and 
 we wouldn't fire at him. I don't want to be 
 too hard on the transgressor. Mebbe he's 
 driven to his evil ways by destitution." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson paid very little attention to 
 what her husband was saying, being more in- 
 tent on what was passing upstairs. 
 
 After a short interval Bert came down. 
 
 " Well? * said Silas eagerly. " Did you see 
 the burglar? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Where is he? " 
 
 " In my room." 
 
 " What is he doin* there? " 
 
 " He is lying on the bed." 
 
 " Well, if I ever saw such impudence ! " 
 ejaculated Mrs. Wilson.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 159 
 
 " Has he got a gun with him? Did he offer 
 to shoot you?" 
 
 " No," answered Bert gravely. " The poor 
 fellow is sick." 
 
 " Poor fellow, indeed ! " sniffed Mrs. Wil- 
 son. " What does he mean by getting into a 
 respectable house through a window? He'll 
 end up his days in jail." 
 
 " Does does he look desperate? " inquired 
 Silas Wilson. "Would he be likely to hurt 
 me or Mis' Wilson?" 
 
 " No ; he says he would like to have you 
 come up." 
 
 "Well, of all things!" ejaculated Sophia. 
 
 " I've got something to tell you," went on 
 Bert, turning from one to the other. " He 
 wants me to tell you before you go up. It is 
 some one whom you both know, though you 
 haven't seen him for a good many years." 
 
 Silas did not understand, but a mother's in- 
 stincts were quicker. 
 
 " Is it our son Phineas? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," answered Bert ; " it is your son." 
 
 " Who stole fifty dollars from his father, 
 and crept away like a thief in the night! " ex- 
 claimed the farmer indignantly. 
 
 " He has suffered, and is very weak," re- 
 joined Bert. " He hadn't had anything to 
 eat for twenty-four hours, and I may as welJ
 
 160 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 tell you that it was I who came downstairs in 
 the night and took up the bread and milk 
 to him." 
 
 " You did quite right," said Mrs. Wilson, 
 who was half-way upstairs by this time. He 
 was her own son in spite of all, and though 
 she was not an emotional woman, she yearned 
 to see the face of her only child, with a 
 mother's feelings all aroused within her. 
 
 " He took fifty dollars ! " repeated Silas 
 Wilson, still harping on a wrong which he 
 had never forgotten nor forgiven. 
 
 Bert was rather disgusted at the farmer's 
 meanness, but he relieved his anxiety. 
 
 " He's brought you back the money ! " he 
 said shortly. 
 
 " He has ! " exclaimed Silas in a tone of 
 gladness. " Did he tell you so? " 
 
 "Yes; it is all the money he had, and he 
 went without food rather than spend any of 
 it." 
 
 " Come, that's encouragin'," said the 
 farmer. " He's turnin' from his evil ways." 
 
 When they reached Bert's chamber they 
 saw Mrs. Wilson kneeling beside the bed, her 
 harsh features softened by the light of an af- 
 fection which had been absent from th'em for 
 years. She looked contented and happy, now 
 that her boy was restored to her.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 161 
 
 " Got back again, Phineas, hey? " said Silas 
 Wilson. " You're lookin' kinder peaked." 
 
 " Yes, father, I've been sick, but now " 
 
 " I'll soon get him well ! " interposed Mrs. 
 Wilson. " I'll go right down and bring up 
 some breakfast." 
 
 " I can eat it, mother. I have had nothing 
 except the bread and milk Bert brought me." 
 
 On Wednesday evening Bert closed his en- 
 gagement with the farmer, and declined to 
 continue it, though urged strongly to do so. 
 He went home in a whirl of excitement, for 
 Phineas Wilson had told him something which 
 overwhelmed him with astonishment. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 BERT FORMS A RESOLUTION. 
 
 " MOTHER," said Bert abruptly, as he en- 
 tered the cottage at the close of his engage- 
 ment with the farmer, " when did father 
 die?" 
 
 Mrs. Barton sank into a chair, and looked 
 searchingly in her son's face. 
 
 "Whydo you ask?" she said slowly. 
 
 " I have been told to-day that he was living 
 only a year since." 
 
 " Who told you? " 
 
 a Phineas Wilson, the farmer's son."
 
 1 02 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Did he see him a year ago? " 
 " Yes, in some town in Canada near To- 
 ronto, I believe. But, mother, you don't serem 
 surprised." 
 
 " No, Bert, for I knew your father was liv- 
 ing." 
 
 " Then why don't he come home. Why 
 don't he live with us? Is there some mys- 
 tery? " 
 
 " Yes, Bert, and a painful one for your un- 
 fortunate father. It is the fear of a prison 
 that has kept him away from home." 
 
 " Surely, mother," said Bert, painfully 
 shocked, " my father was not a criminal? " 
 
 " No, but circumstances made him appear 
 such." 
 
 " Tell me the story." 
 
 " It is time that you heard it. Ten years 
 ago your father and Albert Marlowe were em- 
 ployed by Weeks Brothers, large shoe manu- 
 facturers in a Massachusetts town. Both 
 
 were skilled workmen " 
 
 " Did Squire Marlowe work at the bench? " 
 
 " Yes, his position was precisely the same 
 
 as your father's, no worse and no better. 
 
 Both received the same pay two dollars a 
 
 day." 
 
 " Does Percy know this? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 163 
 
 " Probably not. Albert Marlowe is not 
 fond of speaking of his early days when he 
 was a common workman. At that time our 
 families were intimate and associated on 
 equal terms. Our circumstances and ways 
 of living were the same. We lived in a double 
 house, Albert occupying one tenement, we the 
 other." 
 
 " Were you and Mrs. Marlowe friendly 
 then?" 
 
 " Yes ; she had not yet become a fine lady, 
 but did her own work, dispensing with a ser- 
 vant. We lived plainly, and, if anything, 
 your father was the more prosperous of the 
 to, as we managed to save from fifty to 
 seventy-five dollars a year, while I don't be- 
 lieve Albert saved anything. But one day a 
 terrible thing happened. Mr. Weeks, the 
 senior partner, was a trustee and guardian for 
 some minor children. A part of their prop- 
 erty was invested in United States bonds, 
 5-20's as they are called. He kept them in his 
 safe in the factory. One morning when he 
 opened the safe they were missing. You can 
 imagine the dismay of the guardian and his 
 indignation against the unknown thief. The 
 loss was publicly proclaimed, and a reward 
 of one hundred dollars was offered to any one 
 who could and would give any information
 
 1 64 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 that would lead to the discovery of the thiel. 
 Some one a young man named Harding- 
 entered the office of the firm and informed 
 them that he had seen your father thrusting a 
 paper, looking like a government bond, into 
 the inside pocket of his- overcoat it was in 
 the middle of winter. The workmen k^pt 
 their coats in a small room near the entrance 
 of the factory. Of course the room was 
 visited, your father's coat was examined, and 
 in one of the pockets was found one of the 
 missing bonds, one for five hundred dollars. 
 Your father was summoned, charged with the 
 theft, and required to tell what he had done 
 with the remaining bonds. He was thunder- 
 struck at the accusation, and denied in the 
 most positive terms any knowledge of the 
 stolen property. His statement was not 
 credited. He was arrested, tried for the 
 offense, and sentenced to a term of imprison- 
 ment." 
 
 " Bert's face flushed with indignation, and 
 he clinched his fist almost unconsciously. 
 
 " Did he go to prison? " he asked hoarsely. 
 
 "No; some of his friends, who believed in 
 his innocence, helped him to escape, and sup< 
 plied him with funds to get out of the country. 
 Now you know why he has remained absent 
 all these years."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 165 
 
 " But why was I never told of this, mother? 
 Why did I not know at the time? " 
 
 " You were only six years of age, and were 
 sent away during the excitement to the house 
 of a friend living at some distance. I moved 
 away from the town in which my misfortunes 
 were known, and eventually came here, learn- 
 ing that Albert Marlowe had established him- 
 self in business here. You readily believed 
 that your fattier was dead." 
 
 " I understand now, mother. But is it not 
 terrible that the happiness of a family should 
 be broken up in this way? " 
 
 " Yes, Bert. Providence permits it for some 
 wise purpose, no doubt, though it is hard for 
 us to understand why it should be." 
 
 " One thing I don't understand, mother. 
 You say that Squire Marlowe was a common 
 workman, like uiy father, and a poor man?" 
 
 " Yes, Bert." 
 
 " How is it that he is now a rich manufac- 
 turer? Where did he get the necessary capi- 
 tal?" 
 
 " Nobody knew. He took all his friends by 
 surprise when he went into business for him- 
 self on a large scale. Whatever the amount of 
 his capital, he has never beea financially 
 embarrassed, and has gone on prospering." 
 
 " Till now he is a rich man, living in luxury,
 
 1 66 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 while we are living from hand to mouth, and 
 poor father is an exile somewhere." 
 "Yes, Bert." 
 
 " Don't you receive letters from father? " 
 " If I should, it would draw attention to 
 
 him, and might imperil his safety." 
 
 " I might meet him sometime, and not know 
 
 him." 
 
 " Have you no recollection of him? " 
 
 " Not the least? Haven't you any picture 
 of him, mother? " 
 
 " Yes, I have a daguerreotype upstairs an 
 old-style picture." 
 
 " Why have you never shown it to me? " 
 
 " Because it would have led you to ask 
 questions which would have been embarrass- 
 ing for me to answer. You might have men- 
 tioned the existence of the picture before some 
 visitor, and compelled me to produce it. Sup- 
 pose this had been the case, and it had been 
 recognized, it might have got your father into 
 trouble." 
 
 " Now that I know all the circumstances, 
 won't you show me the picture, mother? " 
 
 " Yes, Bert ; the only objection I had is 
 now removed." 
 
 Mrs. Barton went upstairs, and soon re- 
 turned with one of those old-fashioned pic-
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 167 
 
 tures of which many of my readers may have 
 specimens in their homes a daguerrotype. 
 
 Bert scanned it attentively, and he first 
 looked bewildered, then surprised. 
 
 " I have seen a face like that," he said after 
 a pause. 
 
 "Where, Bert?" 
 
 " I don't remember. Is it possible that I 
 can remember so far back? " 
 
 " It may be an accidental resemblance," 
 
 " No , the face is like in every respect. 
 Can't you explain it to me, mother? " 
 
 " Think a little, Bert. Perhaps you will 
 recall where you saw a face like this." 
 
 " I have it now," said Bert, his face bright- 
 ening up. " It is like Mr. Robinson the 
 Triend of father, who called here a few weeks 
 since." 
 
 "Bert," said his mother slowly, " Mr. Rob- 
 inson was not your father's friend. It was 
 your father himself." 
 
 Bert looked the picture of astonishment. 
 
 " Why did you not tell me, mother? " 
 
 " How could I? You did not even know 
 that he was alive. Ever since then I have 
 been seeking an opportunity to tell you the 
 truth." 
 
 " I am glad to know. What did father have 
 to say? "
 
 i68 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " He thinks he has found out at any rate 
 he has strong suspicions who was the real 
 thief for whom he suffered." 
 
 " Who is it, mother? Is it any one I ever 
 knew?" 
 
 " Yes, Bert." 
 
 " Tell me quick." 
 
 " Then you must promise to keep it secret 
 till we are in a condition to prove the truth of 
 our suspicions. It was Albert Marlowe." 
 
 "The squire?" 
 
 yes." 
 
 " That must explain his being able to go 
 into business for himself." 
 
 " Yes. Your father is on the track of a 
 man who was his accomplice, or rather his 
 tool, in the matter the young man named 
 Harding, on whose information your father 
 was arrested. Of course he is placed under a 
 disadvantage in making these inquiries, being 
 under the ban of the law." 
 
 " Mother," said Bert solemnly, " I am going 
 to solve the mystery, if possible, make my 
 father's evidence clear, and expose the real 
 criminal. I am only a boy, and I don't know 
 how I shall accomplish it, but I won't rest till 
 I have done it." 
 
 " May Heaven grant you success, my dear 
 boy!" responded Mrs. Barton fervently.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE OFFICE OF THE MAGNET MINE. 
 
 BERT took the morning train to New York, 
 and arrived about half- past seven o'clock. He 
 met with no adventures on the way, and as 
 soon as he reached the Grand Central Depot 
 took a Fourth Avenue car down, as instructed 
 by Uncle Jacob. In a large building of many 
 stories on Nassau Street, on the sixth floor, 
 was an office on the door of which Bert read 
 
 MAGNET MINING CO. 
 
 This, as he understood, was the office where 
 Jacob Marlowe was employed. 
 
 Bert was considering whether he ought to 
 knock or not, when a brisk-looking gentle- 
 man stepped up, and, opening the door, en- 
 tered. Bert followed him in. 
 
 " Whom did you wish to see? " asked the 
 brisk-looking man. 
 
 " Mr. Jacob Marlowe. Is this the office 
 where he is employed?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the man, with a smile. 
 
 Bert hardly needed this assurance, however, 
 as he had already discovered Uncle Jacob sit- 
 ting in an inner room, at a desk, conversing 
 on business, apparently, with an elderly man 
 of dignified appearance.
 
 170 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " He will soon be at leisure," said the one 
 who had just entered, and seated himself at 
 another desk in the outer room. 
 
 " That must be Uncle Jacob's employer," 
 thought Bert. 
 
 " What news do you hear of the mine? " he 
 heard the elderly man ask. 
 
 " Excellent," answered Uncle Jacob. " It 
 has gone up five points within two weeks. 
 The output is steadily increasing." 
 
 " Do you know anything of it from your 
 own knowledge? " 
 
 " Certainly ; I ought to, for I was myself its 
 discoverer." 
 
 This rather surprised Bert. 
 
 " It was a rich find," continued Uncle Jacob, 
 " and I have no hesitation in putting it on the 
 New York market." 
 
 " There are so many wild-cat mines, you 
 know, that a man needs to be very cautious." 
 
 " Quite true. In such mines it is only the 
 men who capitalize them who make money. I 
 would not lend myself to any such scheme of 
 deception. I have a reputation to sustain, and 
 I value that more than money. Our mine has 
 found favor with some of the most conserv- 
 ative investors in the city." Here Uncle Jacob 
 mentioned several names, so prominent that
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 171 
 
 they were familiar to Bert, country boy 
 though he was. 
 
 " You may put me down for five hundred 
 shares," said the elderly man, apparently con- 
 vinced. " I will send you round a check to- 
 morrow. To whom shall I make it payable? " 
 
 " To me." 
 
 Very well.'' 
 
 The old gentleman rose, drew on his gloves, 
 and went out, Uncle Jacob accompanying him 
 to the door. This brought him face to face 
 with Bert. 
 
 " So you have come, Bert," he said with a 
 pleasant smile. " How did you leave your 
 mother? " 
 
 " Very well, uncle." 
 
 " At what time did you breakfast? " 
 
 " At half-past six." 
 
 " Then you must be hungry. It is rather 
 early for my lunch, but I will go out with you 
 now. Mr. Bascom, I shall be back within an 
 hour. If any one calls to see me, try to keep 
 him." 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Bascom deferentially. 
 
 " He can't be Uncle Jacob's employer," 
 thought Bert. " He is too respectful. I had 
 no idea uncle was such a man of business. 
 He doesn't appear to be afraid of anybody." 
 
 They descended in the elevator, rather to
 
 172 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Bert's surprise, who had climbed up by the 
 staircase. Crossing the street they entered a 
 dairy restaurant, which in spite of the name 
 supplied the usual variety of dishes. They 
 found a table at which BO others were seated, 
 and Uncle Jacob ordered a substantial meal of 
 roast beef and vegetables. 
 
 " Did you find me easily, Bert? " he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Oh, yes,* uncle. I had to inquire the way 
 once only. Do you like your place? " 
 
 " Very well, indeed, Bert." 
 
 " Is it a good man you work for? " 
 
 Uncle Jacob smiled. 
 
 " I have no fault to find with him," he an- 
 swered. 
 
 " I thought perhaps that man with black 
 hair and whiskers- might be the boss." 
 
 " No, he is a clerk." 
 
 "Like you?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Jacob, with another smile. 
 
 " Does the boss often come in? " 
 
 " He doesn't interfere much. You see he 
 has a good deal of confidence in Mr. Bascom 
 and myself." 
 
 " 80 I thought." 
 
 " What made you think so? " 
 
 " You seem to talk and act as if you were 
 independent."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 173 
 
 " It's a way I have, Bert. As I understand 
 the business thoroughly, more than anybody 
 else, there is no reason why I shouldn't, is 
 there?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" 
 
 " That is why I enjoy my position so well." 
 
 " Do you get paid your wages every Satur- 
 day night?" 
 
 " Oftener, if I please," answered Jacob Mar- 
 lowe, seeming amused. " If I happen to get 
 short in the middle of the week, I can draw in 
 advance." 
 
 " You seem to have a very good position, 
 Uncle Jacob. It is a great deal better than 
 opening a cigar store in Lakeville." 
 
 " Yes, I think so myself Albert Marlowe 
 was right in advising me against it. Have 
 you seen him lately?" 
 
 " I see him about every day, but not to 
 speak to." 
 
 "It was mean in him to discharge you from 
 the factory." 
 
 " So I thought, Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " I wrote asking him to take you back." 
 
 "What did he say?" asked Bert, with in- 
 terest. 
 
 " He in effect told me to mind my own busi- 
 ness. I hope you and your mother have not 
 suffered for want of money? "
 
 174 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " No, thanks to you, Uncle Jacob. Mother 
 thought you ought not to have sent so much." 
 
 " I don't think I shall miss it, Bert," said 
 Uncle Jacob. " I am glad that it helped you." 
 
 " The twenty-dollar bill got me into trou- 
 ble." 
 
 " How was that? " 
 
 Bert told the story of his arrest on the 
 charge of robbing Mr. Jones, and gave an ac- 
 count of his trial. 
 
 " And you were tried before Albert Mar- 
 lowe? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I suppose Percy rejoiced in your humili- 
 ation?" 
 
 " No, he didn't. He behaved like a brick. 
 He walked to the court-room with me, and 
 told me he was sure I was not guilty." 
 
 " I am certainly surprised, but I am pleased 
 also. That is a point in Percy's favor, an un- 
 expected one. He shan't lose by it." 
 
 " I am afraid I shouldn't have got off if it 
 hadn't been for a young lawyer from New 
 York, named Conway, who volunteered to de- 
 fend me." 
 
 " Go on. Give me an account of it. Can 
 you give me the address of Mr. Conway? " 
 
 " Yes, uncle. I have it here."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 175 
 
 " I may be able to throw a little business in 
 his way. One good turn deserves another." 
 
 " I wish you would, Uncle Jacob. Mr. Con- 
 way refused to accept a fee, knowing that I 
 could not afford to pay him." 
 
 Uncle Jacob asked other questions as the 
 dinner proceeded. Finally Bert brought out 
 his most important piece of news. 
 
 " I have just found out that my father is 
 still alive," he said. 
 
 " Yes, I knew that," returned Uncle Jacob 
 calmly. 
 
 " You knew it? " 
 
 " Yes, he has been to see me." 
 
 "He has! When?" 
 
 " Last week." 
 
 " You don't think him guilty of the charge 
 which was brought against him?" 
 
 "No; I think him a badly-used man." 
 
 " I wish I could be the means of proving 
 his innocence." 
 
 " I mean that you shall be." 
 
 Bert surveyed his uncle in surprise. 
 
 "In fact, it is for that reason I have sent 
 for you. Your father has put his case into 
 my hands, and I propose to see him righted. 
 This evening, when I am free from business 
 cares, I will speak further with you on this 
 subject."
 
 176 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Uncle Jacob called for his check, paid it, 
 and they returned to the office. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 AN ADVERTISEMENT AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 
 
 UNCLE JACOB left the office at five o'clock, 
 and Bert, who had been exploring the lower 
 part of New York, went uptown with him on 
 the Sixth Avenue road. They got out at 
 Twenty-third Street, and Jacob Marlowe led 
 the way to a large, roomy house near Seventh 
 Avenue. He took out a night-key, and open- 
 ing the outer door proceeded to a large, hand- 
 somely furnished apartment on the second 
 floor, with a bedroom attached. 
 
 " This is where I live, Bert," he remarked, 
 as he took off his hat and hung it up in a 
 closet. 
 
 Bert looked around him. To him the room 
 looked quite luxurious, being furnished in a 
 style which would compare favorably even 
 with Squire Marlowe's, the best house in 
 Lakeville. 
 
 Bert knew nothing of room rents in New 
 York; but, inexperienced as he was, he was 
 surprised that his uncle, on a salary of twelve 
 dollars a week, should be able to live so well. 
 He would have been even more amazed had he
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 177 
 
 known that the weekly rent of the room he 
 was in was twelve dollars. 
 
 " You'v got a splendid room, Uncle Jacob," 
 he said. " I shouldn't think you could afford 
 to live in such style." 
 
 " Some of my friends think I am extrava- 
 gant," observed Jacob Marlowe with a smile. 
 " Perhaps they are right." 
 
 " I am afraid you can't save anything," 
 went on Bert gravely. " What if you should 
 get sick? " 
 
 " I see, Bert, you are more prudent than I 
 am. However I have invested some of my 
 money in the Magnet Mine, and it is likely to 
 double. So I feel justified in making myself 
 comfortable." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that, Uncle Jacob. You 
 deserve to succeed, you are so kind to 
 others." 
 
 " I am glad you think so, Bert. I want to 
 do some good while I live. It gives a man 
 something to live for." 
 
 After supper, which was taken at a restau- 
 rant near by, Uncle Jacob said : " Now let us 
 come to business. I promised your father 
 that I would do what I could to prove him in- 
 nocent of the charge made against him ten 
 years since." 
 
 "Where is my father? Is he in the city?'*
 
 178 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " No; it is not safe for him to stay here, as 
 he is subject to arrest, and might be recog- 
 nized. He has gone back to Canada. Do 
 you know the particulars of his story? " 
 
 "Yes; mother told rue all about it last 
 night." 
 
 " You know, then, that a young man named 
 Ralph Harding informed against him, and 
 that it was his testimony that led to your 
 father's arrest." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Your father is under the impression that 
 this Harding was in league with Albert Mar- 
 lowe, and was employed by him to throw sus- 
 picion upon your father. The weak point of 
 the prosecution was that your father could 
 only be connected with the five-hundred dollar 
 bond found in his overcoat pocket, while a 
 large balance was wholly unaccounted for. 
 That made it seem like a cunning conspiracy, 
 as undoubtedly it was." 
 
 "Were the other bonds never traced?" 
 
 " I understand not. No list of the numbers 
 had been kept, and, not being registered, they 
 could easily be sold. Your father thinks that 
 upon these the present prosperity of Albert 
 Marlowe was built up." I 
 
 " How are we to prove that? " 
 
 '' It will be difficult. One thing is abso-
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 179 
 
 lutely essential. We must find this Ralph 
 Harding, and persuade him, if we can, to ex- 
 onerate your father and place the guilt where 
 it properly belongs." 
 
 " Does father know where to find Hard- 
 ing? " 
 
 " No; if he did, the greatest difficulty in our 
 way would be removed." 
 
 " Then I don't see that we can do any- 
 thing," said Bert, disappointed. 
 
 " The task is difficult, but not impossible. 
 All we know is, that only two months after 
 the robbery Harding disappeared. It was re- 
 ported that he went to the West, but this was 
 by no means certain. From that day to this, 
 nothing is positively known as to his where- 
 abouts.'' 
 
 " Then I don't see what can be done," re- 
 peated Bert. 
 
 " There is one thing to guide us," con- 
 tinued Uncle Jacob; "the man's occupation. 
 There is a fair probability that he is work- 
 ing in some shoe town, that is, if he is still 
 alive." 
 
 " There are a good many shoe towns," ob- 
 jected Bert. 
 
 " True ; the clew is only a faint one, yet 
 sometimes a faint clew leads to important dis- 
 coveries."
 
 i8o Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Have you taken any steps yet, Uncle 
 Jacob?" 
 
 " Yes ; your father remembered that Hard- 
 ing was a Pennsylvanian by birth, and this 
 made it possible, at least, that he had gone 
 back to his native State. Accordingly, last 
 week, I inserted an advertisement in two daily 
 papers printed in Philadelphia, calling for in- 
 formation touching the man of whom we are 
 in search. I will show you a copy of it." 
 
 Uncle Jacob took from his wallet a news- 
 paper clipping and showed it to Bert. 
 
 It ran thus: 
 
 WANTED. Information as to the present 
 residence of Ralph Harding, who in the year 
 1873 was employed in the shoe manufactory of 
 Weeks Brothers, in Lynn, Mass. He will 
 hear something to his advantage. 
 
 " Have you had any answer to this adver- 
 tisement? " asked Bert. 
 
 " Not till this morning, when I received a 
 letter from Harrisburg, written in a feminine 
 hand. Here it is." 
 
 He placed in Bert's hands the following 
 letter : 
 
 DEAR SIR: I have read in the Philadelphia 
 Ledger your advertisement for a man named 
 Kalph Harding. A man by that name
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 181 
 
 boarded with me two months ago. He was 
 working in a shoe shop in this city, so he may 
 be the one you are after. You say you know 
 of something to his advantage. If there is 
 any money coming to him I want you to see 
 that I am paid a just debt. Mr. Harding was 
 owing me eight weeks' board when he left the 
 house, at four dollars a week, and dirt cheap 
 that is ; for, if I do say it myself, there are not 
 many boarding-houses in Harrisburg where so 
 good a table is kept for four dollars as I give. 
 I inclose my bill, and will be very glad if you 
 will send me the money by return of mail, tak- 
 ing it out of any money that is to come to Mr. 
 Harding. I work hard for my money, and I 
 can't afford to lose thirty-two dollars, and it 
 isn't right that I should. 
 
 Hoping to hear from you very soon, I re- 
 main, 
 
 Yours respectfully, 
 
 AMELIA STUBBS. 
 
 P. S. You can send me a check, as I can get 
 it cashed by my grocer. 
 
 " Mrs. Stubbs means busineiB," remarked 
 Bert with a smile. " Have you sent her the 
 money? " 
 
 " Not yet I don't hold myself liable for 
 Ralph Hard ing's debts, even if this is the man
 
 1 82 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 I am after. However, I am willing to pay 
 Mrs. Stubbs for information, if she can fur- 
 nish any that will help us." 
 " Have you written to her? " 
 " I am going to send a letter to her by you." 
 " Am I to go to Harrisburg? " exclaimed 
 Bert, pleasantly surprised. 
 
 " Yes ; I shall send you there to-morrow." 
 " I should like to go. What am I to do 
 when I get there? " 
 
 " First of all you must call on Mrs. Stubbs. 
 It may be well for you to engage board at her 
 house for a week, paying in advance, as that 
 will put you in her good graces. You will, of 
 course, learn all you can from her, but it will 
 be necessary also to seek information outside. 
 I shall have to leave a good deal to your dis- 
 cretion." 
 
 " I hope your confidence in me won't prove 
 to be misplaced, Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " I know you will do your best, Bert, but it 
 is quite possible you may fail. As the poet 
 says : * 'Tis not in mortals to command suc- 
 cess.' I am sure you will deserve it." 
 
 " Isn't it going to cost considerable to make 
 this journey, Uncle Jacob? " 
 
 " I think we can find money enough for it." 
 " I am afraid your money will soon melt
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 183 
 
 away, uncle. Think how much you have spent 
 for us already." 
 
 " You remember what I told you as to my 
 lucky investment in the Magnet Mine. At 
 any rate it will be worth something to vindi- 
 cate your father, who, for teii long and tedious 
 years, has been compelled to pass his life in 
 exile under the ban of a crime which he never 
 committed." 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Jacob, but it ought not to 
 come out of you." 
 
 " Make yourself easy, Bert. The money we 
 spend for worthy purposes is well invested, 
 and we are often repaid tenfold. And now, as 
 you are unacquainted with New York, I will 
 take you out for a walk and show you how it 
 looks by gaslight." 
 
 Nothing could have pleased Bert better 
 than this proposal. They returned at nine 
 o'clock, and both he and Uncle Jacob retired 
 at an early hour. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 BERT SECURES BOARD IN HARRISBURG. 
 
 BERT arrived in Harrisburg about four 
 o'clock in the afternoon. He had in his hand 
 a gripsack purchased for him by Uncle Jacob, 
 who also provided him with a fuller supply of
 
 184 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 shirts, socks, and underclothing than he had 
 brought with him. 
 
 " You may be gone some time," he said. 
 
 Just as Bert got into the cars, Uncle Jacob 
 handed him a wallet. 
 
 " This contains a sum of money for your im- 
 mediate needs," he explained. " When you 
 are out, send to me." 
 
 After the cars started, Bert opened the wal- 
 let, and to his surprise found that he had 
 fifty dollars in his possession. 
 
 " Uncle Jacob's money won't last long at 
 this rate," he said to himself. " I must be 
 very careful and economical. I should like to 
 take back to him a part of this sum." 
 
 Of course Bert enjoyed his trip. The sun 
 shone brightly, the air was cool and invigorat- 
 ing, and the scenes through which he was rap- 
 idly speeding were new to him. In spite of 
 the sense of responsibility which rested upon 
 him, he felt cheerful and exhilarated. 
 
 " If I can only succeed in my mission ! " he 
 thought. " If I can only find Ralph Harding, 
 and induce him to vindicate my father's repu- 
 tation, I shall feel happy ! " 
 
 It so happened that he had seated himself in 
 the smoking car, the car behind, which he first 
 entered, being full.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 185 
 
 A tall, thin mail, wearing a white hat, sat 
 down beside him. 
 
 " Have a cigar, young man?" he asked, as 
 he produced two of rather poor quality, 
 one of which he lighted and proceeded to 
 smoke. 
 
 " No, thank you, sir." 
 
 " Better accept a good offer," urged the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Thank you, but I don't smoke." 
 
 "Indeed! How old are you?" 
 
 " I am sixteen," replied Bert. 
 
 " Then you are a rara avis that means a 
 rare bird. Most boys of your age smoke." 
 
 " They'd be better off without it." 
 
 " Perhaps so. I see you are a prudent 
 young man. How far are you going? " 
 
 " To Harrisburg." 
 
 " So am I. Queer coincidence, isn't it? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Bert, smiling. 
 " I presume there are other passengers on 
 board who are also bound for that city." 
 
 " Very possibly. Ever been there before? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " I have often, and the long ride is rather 
 tedious. What do you say to a little game of 
 cards to fill up the time? " 
 
 " Thank you, but I would rather look out of 
 the window."
 
 1 86 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 The stranger seemed disappointed, but a 
 man in the seat jnst behind, leaning over, 
 said : " If you want a game, I'm your man." 
 
 " All right ! " said Bert's companion, 
 brightening up. " What game do you play? " 
 
 " Anything." 
 
 " Poker? " 
 
 " All right." 
 
 The two took seats opposite, between which 
 was a small table, and the game began. Bert 
 looked over now and then, and saw that they 
 were playing for money. He was startled, for 
 he had been taught to regard gambling with 
 horror. It seemed evident after awhile that 
 his late seat-mate was losing. He became 
 more and more excited and nervous, and his 
 face was overspread with gloom. At length 
 he came over to Bert, and said, eagerly: 
 " My young friend, will you do me a favor? " 
 
 " What is it, sir? " 
 
 " Lend me five dollars." 
 
 This seemed to Bert an extraordinary re- 
 quest from a perfect stranger. 
 
 " You must excuse me, sir," he answered. 
 
 " Haven't you got as much about you? Say 
 two dollars, then." 
 
 " The money I have with me is not my 
 own," said Bert. " I cannot lend anything." 
 
 " But, let me assure you, I will give it back
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 187 
 
 to you before the train reaches Harrisburg. 
 I have had a streak of bad luck, and that man 
 over there has won all my money. But I've 
 got on to his game, and I will soon have it all 
 back, if I get a start. You'll be doing me a 
 great favor, and there will be no risk." 
 
 " He must take me for a fool," thought Bert. 
 
 " You had better apply to some one else," 
 he said coldly. " I can't possibly help you." 
 
 " So young and so hard-hearted ! " mur- 
 mured the other, eying Bert reproachfully. 
 u 'Twas ever thus from childhood's hour. I 
 was born under an unlucky star. Sir, I am 
 afraid I must withdraw from our pleasant 
 game unless you will kindly lend me a dollar 
 to continue." 
 
 His late antagonist shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I don't see how that would benefit me," he 
 said. " We'll wait till another time when you 
 are in funds. Then I shall be happy to accom- 
 modate you." 
 
 " Did you lose much? " asked Bert, as his 
 companion resumed a seat at his side. 
 
 " Fifteen dollars ! "Tis not much, but 'twas 
 my all. If you would oblige me with a dollar, 
 I can win it all back." 
 
 Bert shook his head. 
 
 " I have no money of my own," he said. 
 
 " Never mind ! Twenty times I have been
 
 1 88 Five Hundred Dollars 
 
 on the threshold of fortune, and failed to se- 
 cure it by my funds giving out. Be it so! I 
 will no longer resist, but float downward to 
 oblivion over the rapids of disappointment." 
 
 " You are an actor, are you not? " said Bert. 
 
 " Yes ; at least, so I sometimes flatter my- 
 self, though the critics do not all concede it. 
 If you are going to remain in Harrisburg long 
 enough, come and see me act." 
 
 He gave Bert his card, and then closing his 
 eyes, passed the remainder of the journey in 
 dozing. 
 
 Arrived in Harrisburg, Bert found himself 
 besieged by hackmen, representing different 
 hotels. But he did not think it right to waste 
 Uncle Jacob's money in unnecessary expense. 
 He picked out a bootblack, and showing him 
 the address of Mrs. Stubbs, asked : " Is that 
 near by?" 
 
 " 'Bout quarter of a mile," answered the 
 street boy. 
 
 " What'll you ask for showing me the 
 way? " 
 
 " A dime." 
 
 " Go ahead, then ! 
 
 In five minutes Bert found himself standing 
 in front of a rather shabby three-story house, 
 in a decent, but not fashionable, street. The 
 name Stubbs was on the door.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. i8g 
 
 Bert rang the bell, and inquired for Mrs. 
 Stubbs. 
 
 He was ushered into a small reception room 
 on one side of the front door, furnished in 
 cheap, boarding-house style, and took a seat 
 on a stiff- backed cane chair. 
 
 Presently a thin lady, with cork-screw curls, 
 and a pale, washed-out complexion, entered 
 the room. 
 
 " Did you wish to see me, sir? " she said. 
 
 " Yes," answered Bert. " You answered an 
 advertisement about Ralph Harding. I come 
 from New York." 
 
 " Have you brought my money? " asked 
 Mrs. Stubbs, with animation. 
 
 " What money do you refer to? " 
 
 " Mr. Harding's board bill. I sent it in the 
 letter." 
 
 " We don't feel called upon to pay Mr. 
 Harding's debts," returned Bert, who had been 
 instructed by Uncle Jacob to say this. 
 
 "Must I lose thirty-two dollars, then?" 
 said the lady tragically. " It's a shame." 
 
 " No doubt it is, but we don't even know 
 Mr. Harding." 
 
 " Then why did you advertise for him? " 
 
 " Because we want his testimony in a law 
 case." 
 
 "The advertisement said that it would be
 
 190 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 for Mr. Harding's advantage to report to you." 
 
 " So it will, if we can find him. He will re- 
 ceive money enough to settle your bill, and 
 more, too. We will see that he does, if you 
 help us find him." 
 
 " I am sure I am willing to do all I can," 
 said Mrs. Stubbs, considerably mollified. 
 
 " Have you got a small room vacant? " 
 asked Bert. " I may be detained in Harris- 
 burg for a while." 
 
 " Yes ; you can have the one Mr. Harding 
 used to occupy. If you occupy it alone, it will 
 be five dollars a week with board." 
 
 " I will take it," said Bert promptly. " Can 
 I have possession at once? " 
 
 " Yes. Let me show you the way." 
 
 The room was on the third floor. It was a 
 small one, but would answer the purpose. 
 Bert took out his clothes, and laid them away 
 in the pine bureau near the window. 
 
 " Well," he said, as he waited for the bell 
 to summon him to supper, " I have taken the 
 first step toward finding Ralph Harding. I 
 am occupying the room which was once his. 
 What shall be the next step?" 
 
 He little anticipated the singular experi- 
 ence that same evening had in store for him.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. IQI 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A BOARDING-HOUSE IN HAERISBURG. 
 
 AT the supper table Bert made acquaint- 
 ance with his fellow-boarders. There were 
 eight in all. Three of them worked in the 
 shoe factory where Ralph Harding had been 
 employed, two young ladies were saleswomen 
 in a dry-goods store, Professor Silvio and wife 
 taught a dancing school, and the eighth was 
 the landlady's daughter, a young woman of 
 twenty-five, who resembled Mrs. Stubbs 
 closely. Bert learned afterward that she was 
 employed in a millinery store. 
 
 " Gentlemen and ladies/' said Mrs. Stubbs, 
 as Bert took the vacant chair that had been 
 assigned to him, " let me introduce a new 
 boarder, Mr. Barton." 
 
 Eight pairs of curious eyes were fixed upon 
 Bert, and he blushed a little, not being ac- 
 customed to the scrutiny of strangers 1 . 
 
 " He is a friend of a former boarder, Mr. 
 Harding, whom some of you will remember." 
 
 " Have you heard from Mr. Harding lately, 
 Mr. Barton? " asked Angelica Stubbs, who sat 
 next to our hero. 
 
 " No," answered Bert.
 
 IQ2 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " He left quite suddenly, owing ma eight 
 weeks' board." 
 
 " So I heard." 
 
 " Do you think he will ever pay it up? " 
 
 "If I succeed in finding him I think there 
 is some chance of it." 
 
 " Mr. Harding and I were very good 
 friends," continued Miss Stubbs. He in fact 
 showed quite a fondness for my society," 
 he added, casting down her eyes modestly. 
 
 "No wonder!" said Bert, smiling. 
 
 "Oh, you sad flatterer!" said Miss Angel- 
 ica, appearing pleased at what she regarded 
 as a compliment. 
 
 " Didn't he tell you where he was going? " 
 asked Bert. 
 
 "No; I think he was called away by bad 
 news." 
 
 " What sort of a looking man was he? " 
 Bert inquired. 
 
 " You ask me that? " said Angelica, in sur- 
 prise. " I thought you were a friend of his." 
 
 " I never saw him in my life." 
 
 " That's funny. Why then did ma intro- 
 duce you as a friend of his?" 
 
 " She thought me so. I am interested in 
 finding him, that is all." 
 
 " You are not a horrid detective, I hope? 
 Has poor Mr. Harding committed a crime?
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 193 
 
 Oh, tell me quick. You actually make me 
 creep all over." 
 
 " I don't mean any harm, but his testimony 
 is wanted in a law case. You haven't told me 
 about his appearance yet." 
 
 " I've got his photograph, and will show it 
 to you after supper." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " said Bert, much pleased. 
 
 " That is, if you are sure it won't do him 
 any harm. He used to talk to me very con- 
 fidentially, and I can't help liking him, even 
 if he did get in debt to ma." 
 
 " Perhaps he was unfortunate and couldn't 
 pay." 
 
 " That's what I tell ma, but ma's rather 
 severe on boarders that go away without pay- 
 ing her." 
 
 " Did he take all his baggage with him, Misa 
 Stubbs? " 
 
 " He left behind a box of books and papers. 
 They weren't of much account some old 
 letters and such." 
 
 "Did your mother preserve them?" asked 
 Bert eagerly. 
 
 "Yes, I believe so; but she would have 
 preferred to have him leave his trunk. That 
 might have been sold for a part of his board 
 bill."
 
 194 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Do you think I could look over the books 
 ctnd papers? " asked Bert. 
 
 " What for? " inquired Angelica, her race 
 expressing curiosity. 
 
 " You know I want to find him, and some 
 of the papers might throw light on his move- 
 ments." 
 
 " I don't know but you could," answered 
 Angelica indifferently. 
 
 " I'll be willing to pay your mother one 
 week's board for the box and its contents." 
 
 " Then I am sure she will let you have them. 
 They are worth nothing to her. I only wonder 
 she hasn't used them to kindle the fire with 
 before now." 
 
 " I hope she hasn't,'' returned Bert anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " No ; I know she hasn't, for I saw them in 
 the attic only last week. I'll look them up 
 for you some day when I am at leisure." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 " I wonder Mr. Harding hasn't written to 
 you," he said, a little later. 
 
 " Oh, go along ! You don't suppose there 
 was anything between me and him? 7 * said 
 Angelica, who liked nothing better than to be 
 teased about the attentions of members of the 
 other sex. Bert was sharp enough to see this,
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 195 
 
 and thought he might make it available in 
 promoting the object he had in view. 
 
 " I thought, perhaps, he had gone away be- 
 cause you didn't smile upon his suit." 
 
 Miss Angelica laughed and tossed her head 
 in grvat delight. 
 
 " As if I would tell you," she said. 
 
 " I only hope he hasn't committed suicide." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Barton, how can you? Really, I 
 shall have to complain to ma." 
 
 All this was very amusing to Bert, who had 
 a natural love of fun, and quite understood 
 Angelica by this time, though, truth to tell,, 
 she was not difficult to read. 
 
 When supper was over, Miss Stubbs said 
 graciously : " Mr. Barton, if you are not 
 pressed for time, will you linger a while? I 
 play a little on the piano, and if you are 
 fond of music, I will play for you. Usually 
 I have to be in the store, but this is my eve- 
 ning off." 
 
 " I shall be glad to stay, Miss Stubbs. I am 
 fond of music." 
 
 " Mr. Harding often lingered with me in 
 the evening hours. He liked to hear me play." 
 
 " As I no doubt shall." 
 
 "Do you sing, Mr. Barton?" 
 
 "No; I wish I did." 
 
 Miss Angelica's piano was probably twenty*
 
 196 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 five years old, and was very much out of tune. 
 But even if it bad been a Chickering Grand, 
 ber playing would bardly bave captivated a 
 musical ear. She bad little taste, and the les- 
 sons she had taken had only given her the 
 ability to play a few easy tunes. 
 
 Bert found half an hour of Miss Angelica's 
 music and society all he cared to enjoy at one 
 time. He therefore excused himself, and tak- 
 ing his hat, went out for a walk. As he was a 
 stranger in Harrisburg, he was not particular 
 in what direction he strolled, but naturally 
 bent his steps toward what appeared to be the 
 central part of the city. 
 
 As he sauntered along, his attention was at- 
 tracted to a flaring poster on a dead wall, set- 
 ting forth the attractive features of 
 
 THE STREETS OF GOTHAM. 
 
 A Realistic Play of New York Life. 
 
 As given by a Star Combination of world-renowned Actors. 
 
 For one week only. 
 Reserved seats, 50 cents. Balcony, 25 cents. 
 
 Now Bert had seldom enjoyed an opportu- 
 nity of attending a dramatic performance, and 
 felt strongly tempted to avail himself of the 
 one that now offered. He wished to be as eco- 
 nomical as possible, and decided to content 
 himself with a seat in the balcony.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 197 
 
 " Where is the theatre?" he asked of a boy 
 who was studying the bill at the same time 
 with himself. 
 
 " Just round the corner. I'll show you," 
 was the reply. 
 "Thank you." 
 
 " Are you goin' to see de play? " asked the 
 boy with interest. 
 
 " I think I shall." 
 
 " I'd go myself if I had another nickel," 
 said the young guide. " I've got ten cents." 
 
 " But I thought twenty-five cents was the 
 lowest price." 
 
 " I can go to de gallery for fifteen cents. 
 De gallery is good enough for me." 
 
 " If a nickel will help you, here is one." 
 
 " Thank you," said the boy. " It's a boss 
 play, dey tell me." 
 
 " I hope it is, as I am going myself." 
 
 The theatre was near at hand, and the two 
 boys soon stood before it It was rather early, 
 being only a quarter past seven, but a small 
 crowd of boys was already waiting for a 
 chance to obtain admission to the gallery. 
 
 There seemed to be no hurry about buying 
 a ticket, and Bert took a standing position 
 near the box office, surveying with interest 
 the passers by. All at once he felt a hand on
 
 198 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 his shoulder, and these words fell upon his 
 ear: 
 
 "We meet again, my dear boy. Shake!" 
 
 Bert immediately recognized his travelling 
 friend who had lost his money on the train. 
 
 "Are you one of the dramatic company?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Yes; I play the leading villain and am 
 acting stage manager. My name is Orville 
 Jack Orville. You have heard of me." 
 
 " I have always lived in the country," said 
 Bert apologetically, " and so have little ac- 
 quaintance with actors." 
 
 Orville looked disappointed. He liked to 
 be known and recognized. 
 
 " That accounts for it," he said. " I am 
 surprised to hear that you are from the coun- 
 try. You have the city air." 
 
 Bert was pleased to hear it, though per- 
 haps that might be a mark of weakness. 
 
 At the moment another man came up hur- 
 riedly, and spoke to Orville. 
 
 " Here's a pretty kettle of fish, Orville," he 
 said. " Bob Hazleton is sick and insists upon 
 going back to New York. Where shall we 
 find a boy to take his place? " 
 
 Orville had an inspiration. He clapped Mr 
 hand on Bert's shoulder, exclaiming : " Here 
 he stands ! "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 BERT'S FIRST APPEARANCE ON ANY STAGE. 
 
 BERT eyed the actor with amazement, rather 
 disposed to doubt his sanity. 
 
 " Do you mean me? " he said. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Has he ever acted? " asked Pearson, the 
 second actor, doubtfully. 
 
 " No, but he can act I'll undertake to 
 train him." 
 
 " There isn't much time. Hazleton can't ap- 
 pear to-night." 
 
 " Don't worry ! I'll see that he is not 
 missed." 
 
 As Pearson went away, Orville said: 
 " You'll help us out, won't you, my boy? " 
 
 " What do you want me to do? " asked 
 Bert, his heart beating with excitement. 
 
 " Take the part of a newsboy. You've seen 
 and heard them in the streets of New York, 
 haven't you?" 
 
 " Yes ; but it seems- sudden. I should have 
 to learn the part." 
 
 " All told there are not more than twenty 
 lines, and you won't come on till the second 
 act. You've spoken pieces, haven't you?" 
 
 "Yes, and I like it"
 
 2oo Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " I was sure of it. Then you accept? " 
 
 " If you think I can do it, and will tell me 
 exactly what to do." 
 
 " Come round at once to the stage entrance. 
 I will give you your lines and tell you the 
 business. We'll speak about terms later." 
 
 As Bert followed Orville round to the stage 
 door he asked himself whether he was not 
 acting foolishly in accepting, at such short 
 notice, a position to which he was entirely un- 
 accustomed. If he had not liked declamation, 
 and felt moderately self-possessed before an 
 audience, he would have promptly refused. 
 As it was, the prospect, while it somewhat 
 daunted, also pleased him. Besides, he saw 
 that, though he might not be able to fill the 
 place of Bob Hazleton, it was imperatively 
 necessary that the part should be taken by 
 some one, and there was no time to lose in 
 hunting up another boy. If he did poorly, he 
 could limit his engagement to one evening. 
 
 He was not at home behind the scenes, and 
 at the outset came near tumbling through a 
 trap door. He followed Orville to the general 
 dressing-room, where the manager assisted 
 him to attire himself in the costume provided 
 for the newsboy. It is needless to say that it 
 was not of a costly description, and would 
 have been dear at a dollar and a half.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 201 
 
 " I'll dress you first, and give you the lines 
 afterward." 
 
 In five minutes Bert surveyed himself in a 
 cracked mirror, and wondered if he were the 
 same boy. Orville ruffled up his hair, taught 
 him the free and easy walk of the typical 
 newsboy, briefly instructed him in the " busi- 
 ness " of the part, and then gave him his lines 
 to commit. 
 
 " Read them to me," he said. " I want 
 to see if you've caught the spirit of the part." 
 
 Of course Bert needed a little coaching, but 
 " caught on," as Orville expressed it, with re- 
 markable quickness. After a few minutes' 
 rehearsal, his teacher said: "You'll do; that 
 is, if you don't get rattled." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " Get an attack of stage fright, and forget 
 your lines." 
 
 " I won't do that," said Bert confidently. 
 
 " Then you'll have no trouble. Now, stay 
 here till you get a summons from the call boy. 
 I must make up for my part, though I don't 
 appear, either, till the second act. Remember 
 that we rely upon you." 
 
 " I'll get through," said Bert confidently. 
 
 By this time our hero looked forward 
 eagerly to the moment when he would appear 
 on the stage. He felt excited, and yearned to
 
 2O2 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 distinguish himself. He wanted to justify the 
 stage manager's hasty, and, it must be con- 
 fessed, rather imprudent, choice. 
 
 He waited in the wings till he heard the call 
 boy's summons, and then made his entrance 
 as instructed by Orville. He glanced at the 
 audience, but only got a confused impression 
 of hundreds of faces. He did not allow him- 
 self to think of them, but addressed himself 
 to the business of his part. A part of this 
 was to rescue a little girl from the abuse of a 
 tyrannical old woman. He recited his lines- 
 with spirit; and so enlisted the sympathies of 
 those present by his manly bearing that he 
 received a tribute of applause. The scene 
 came just at the close of the second act, and 
 when the curtain fell there was prolonged 
 hand-clapping. Bert did not know what it 
 meant, but Orville came up to him, and said; 
 " Go before the curtain, leading Maud by the 
 hand. Bow to the audience." 
 
 Bert was a little bewildered, but followed 
 directions. The corner of the curtain was 
 moved aside, and Bert walked across the 
 stage, leading little Maud (who was a daugh- 
 ter of the leading actress) by the hand. 
 Children are always well received, and there 
 was plenty of applause. 
 
 When Bert reappeared behind the scenes,
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 203 
 
 Orville said, " Barton, you did yourself 
 proud! Keep it up when you appear again 
 in the fourth act, and you may consider your- 
 self an actor." 
 
 In the fourth and last act Bert went on the 
 stage in his street dress. His circumstances 
 and his social position were supposed to have 
 improved. 
 
 At the close of the performance Orville in- 
 troduced Bert to the different members of 
 the company. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you have never acted 
 before?" asked Mr. Pearson. 
 
 " This is my first appearance on any stage," 
 said Bert with a smile. 
 
 4(1 Then you have done yourself great credit. 
 I was myself trained at Wallack's Theatre, 
 but had been a year on the boards before I 
 could acquit myself as well as you." 
 
 " Thank you. I have done better than I ex- 
 pected." 
 
 " You more than filled Hazleton's place." 
 
 " Has he been long with you? " 
 
 " A year." 
 
 Bert felt this was indeed praise, that on his 
 first appearance he should have equaled a boy 
 with a year's experience. 
 
 " Of course you will play with us the bal- 
 ance of the week?" said Pearson.
 
 204 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " If you wish me to do so." 
 " What salary will you expect? " 
 Bert smiled. 
 
 " I hardly know what will be a fair price to 
 ask." 
 
 " We will give you the same salary that 
 Hazleton received, fifteen dollars a week, and 
 you pay your own board. Is that satisfac- 
 tory? " 
 
 Bert opened his eyes. Fifteen dollars a 
 week seemed to him a large sum, for evening 
 work. He found afterward that he was ex- 
 pected to appear at rehearsal; but even with 
 this additional duty, the post appeared to him 
 an easy one. 
 
 " I accept the terms," he said. 
 
 "All right; where are you boarding?" 
 
 He gave the address. 
 
 " Please be at the theatre to-morrow at 
 ten, and Mr. Pearson will hear you rehearse 
 and give you a few points." 
 
 Unknown to Bert there were two persons 
 present at the theatre that night who recog- 
 nized him. One of the male boarders, 
 prompted by a rather significant hint from 
 Miss Angelica, had invited that young lady 
 to accompany him to the performance. They 
 sat in the sixth row from the stage, though
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 205 
 
 Bert, who attended only to his duties, did not 
 see them. 
 
 When he first came on as a newsboy, Miss 
 Stubbs said : " How much that newsboy looks 
 like Mr. Barton, ma's new boarder." 
 
 " He does look some like him." 
 
 " But of course it isn't he. I wonder if he 
 is here this 1 evening." 
 
 " I don't see him anywhere," said the 
 escort. 
 
 When Bert appeared in his own clothes in 
 the fourth act, Angelica exclaimed : " Why, it 
 is Mr. Barton, after all ! Is it possible that I 
 know a live actor? Why, I was talking to 
 him at supper, and he was really quite atten- 
 tive to me." 
 
 " He is put down on the bill as Bob Hazle- 
 ton," said the young man, consulting the pro- 
 gramme. 
 
 " That must be his stage name. I will get 
 him to tell me all about acting to-morrow. 
 Do you know, Mr. Cutting, I should like to go 
 on the stage myself? I should so like to play 
 Juliet." 
 
 " If you do, will you let me be Komeo? " 
 
 " Yes, if you desire it," said Angelica, tap- 
 ping her escort coquettishly with her fan. 
 
 It's safe to say that Mr. Cutting, who was 
 barely five feet in height, and Miss Angelica,
 
 206 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 who was tall, thin, and angular, woulu have 
 made a very remarkable Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 As Bert left the stage door, a boy touched 
 his arm. Looking round he saw that it was 
 the one who had guided him to the theatre. 
 The boy's face wore a respectful look as he 
 said: 
 
 " Say, you didn't tell me you was one of de 
 actors." 
 
 " I didn't know it myself," answered Bert. 
 
 " It was you that took off de newsboy," con- 
 tinued the boy. 
 
 " Yes, but I'm not the regular actor. He's 
 sick and I took his place." 
 
 " It was tiptop. Are you goin' to act to- 
 . morrow night?" 
 
 " I shall act all this week." 
 
 " I'd like to see de play again. It's a boss 
 play." 
 
 Bert felt in a liberal mood. 
 
 " Here is fifteen cents," he said. " Tell 
 your friends to come." 
 
 " I'll bring 'em. I'll tell 'em I know one of 
 de actors." 
 
 It may be remarked that Tom Roach, for 
 this was the boy's name, gave such glowing ac- 
 counts of the play to his intimate friends that 
 no less than ten of them accompanied him to 
 the theatre the next evening, and were espe-
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 207 
 
 daily enthusiastic when Bert was on the 
 stage. Their liberal applause raised Bert in 
 the good opinion of the management, who felt 
 that they had secured a prize in the new actor. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 BEET SECURES A BOX OP MR. HARDING'S PAPERS. 
 
 WHEN our hero went down to breakfast 
 next morning, he found himself the observed 
 of all observers. Miss Angelica Stubbs and 
 her escort had already made known that he 
 was a member of the dramatic company, and 
 as none of the boarders had ever before met 
 "a live actor," all felt great curiosity and a 
 desire to become acquainted with so distin- 
 guished a public character. 
 
 As he took his seat beside Miss Stpbbs, she 
 said: " I saw you on the stage last evening, 
 Mr. Barton." 
 
 " Did you? I was not aware that you were 
 in the house." 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me that you were an 
 actor? I've got a bone to pick with you." 
 
 " I didn't know it myself, Miss Stubbs." 
 
 " You mean to say you didn't play the news- 
 boy? Oh, Mr. Barton!"
 
 208 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Yes ; but when I left the house I had no 
 idea of playing. It so happened that the 
 young actor who usually takes the part Bob 
 Hazleton was sick, and I was applied to by 
 the manager to take his place." 
 
 " Then he knew you were an actor? " 
 
 "No; I only fell in with him on the train 
 from New York." 
 
 " Why you acted just as if you were used to 
 it." 
 
 " I am glad you think so. I hardly dared to 
 accept the part." 
 
 " Will you play the rest of the week? " 
 
 " I have agreed to do so. Hazleton goes 
 home to-day." 
 
 "How nice! I must go again." 
 
 " I take that as a compliment." 
 
 " Can't you actors take your friends in 
 free?" asked Angelica, whose rule was to 
 make all^she could out of her acquaintances. 
 
 " I haven't been an actor long enough to 
 find out." 
 
 " I should consider it such a favor. I would 
 i get all my friends to go." 
 
 " On the same terms? " asked Bert with a 
 smile. 
 
 " No. They can pay." 
 
 Bert did secure a complimentary ticket for 
 Miss Stubbs, who boasted everywhere that
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 209 
 
 she was intimately acquainted with one of the 
 leading actors in " The Streets of Gotham," 
 and that he was really very attentive to her. 
 
 " What would my friends at Lakeville say 
 if they knew my new business? " thought 
 Bert. " I should be glad if Percy Marlowe 
 could see me on the stage." 
 
 He determined, however, not to say any- 
 thing in his letters about this new engage- 
 ment, for, though he had been successful thus 
 far, his success and popularity might not last. 
 
 " Did you see the notice of your play in 
 the morning paper, Mr. Barton? " asked Miss 
 Angelica. 
 
 " No ; I haven't seen the paper yet." 
 
 " It speaks of one of the actors. I won't say 
 who," continued Miss Stubbs, nodding play- 
 fully. 
 
 " Do you mean me? " asked Bert in excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " Yes, here it is." 
 
 Bert ran his eye hastily over the notice, 
 which occupied a quarter of a column. This 
 is the portion that most interested him : 
 
 " The part of the newsboy was effectively 
 taken by Mr. Bert Barton, who was engaged 
 at the last moment to fill the place of Mr. 
 Hazleton. His acting was spirited, and the 
 fact that it was liked was shown by the hearty
 
 2io Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 call before the curtain at the end of the second 
 act. The management are fortunate in secur- 
 ing so good a substitute for Bob Hazleton." 
 
 Bert's face showed his gratification. " It 
 almost seemed a dream to him that he had 
 really appeared on the stage, and he was glad 
 that he had given satisfaction. 
 
 At ten o'clock he reported at the stage en- 
 trance, where he was met by Mr. Pearson, who 
 was associate manager. He went through a 
 rehearsal which enabled him to look forward 
 with more confidence to a repetition of the 
 part. 
 
 The afternoon he had to himself, and a part 
 of this he spent in trying to find out what he 
 could about Ralph Harding. He learned that 
 Harding had been employed in the shoe fac- 
 tory of Benedict & Co. Two of Mrs. Stubbs's 
 boarders worked at the same place, but 
 neither had been intimate with Harding. 
 Bert learned that he was looked upon as " a 
 rolling stone," never content to remain long 
 in one place. He had been employed lees 
 than six months at the Benedict shop, when, 
 without assigning any reason, he gave notice 
 that he wanted to leave. 
 
 " What sort of a man is he? " asked Bert 
 
 " He is restless and at times gloomy," an- 
 swered Blanchard, to whom he had put the
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 211 
 
 question. " I worked next to him, but he 
 seldom made any conversation with me." 
 
 " Was he a good workman? " 
 
 " Excellent, but he evidently did not like 
 the business. He often lamented that he had 
 not the means of getting out of it." 
 
 " Have you any idea where he went when 
 he left Harrisburg? " 
 
 " From what I have heard him say, I think 
 it probable that he went to some Western 
 town or city/' 
 
 " You have not heard from him since he 
 left Harrisburg? " 
 
 " No; he was not likely to correspond with 
 me. I doubt if he was intimate enough with 
 any one here to do so, except possibly with 
 Miss Stubbs," added Blanchard, with a smile. 
 
 " She tells me Mr. Harding paid her a good 
 deal of attention." 
 
 "It is more probable that Miss Stubbs paid 
 him a good deal of attention. At present you 
 are her favorite." 
 
 " I don't want to interfere with you, Mr. 
 Blanchard," said Bert, much amused. 
 
 " I can't undertake to compete with an 
 actor, Mr. Barton." 
 
 " I can't get over my surprise at being 
 called an actor. However, as long as it pays 
 me better than anything else, I don't object."
 
 212 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 The next day Mrs. Stubbs intercepted Bert 
 as he was leaving the house. 
 
 " My daughter tells me," she said, " that 
 'you are willing to pay four dollars for the 
 'papers which Mr. Harding left behind him? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Bert eagerly. 
 
 " I don't see why I shouldn't sell them. I 
 can't afford to lose eight weeks 1 * board." 
 
 " Quite true, Mrs. Stubbs. I don't see why 
 they won't be just as safe in my hands as in 
 yours." 
 
 " You don't want to do Mr. Harding any 
 harm; though I don't know why I should 
 think of that, after the way he has served 
 me!" 
 
 " Instead of that, Mrs. Stubbs, I can assure 
 you that it will be money in his pocket, if, 
 through his papers, I am able to find him." 
 
 " And in that case you will try to get him 
 to pay his- honest debts?" 
 
 " I will, Mrs. Stubbs." 
 
 " Then, Mr. Barton, if you will come up to 
 the attic I will hand you the papers." 
 
 Bert gladly followed Mrs. Stubbs upstairs, 
 and was shown on the attic floor a wooden 
 box about half full of old letters and other 
 papers. The box certainly did not look very 
 valuable, and Bert said so. 
 
 " I wouldn't have kept it," said the land-
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 213 
 
 lady, " if I could have got hold of his trunk. 
 But he got the start of me, and it was in the 
 hands of an expressman before I knew that 
 he was going to move. I was downstairs in 
 the basement when Mr. Harding took the ex- 
 pressman upstairs, and the trunk was brought 
 i down and put in his wagon before I knew 
 what was going on. Mr. Harding didn't even 
 say good-by, and I haven't seen or heard of 
 him from that day to this." 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Stubbs, here are your four dol- 
 lars, and I hope you will some day get the 
 balance of the debt." 
 
 Bert carried the box downstairs and into 
 his room, where he proceeded to examine the 
 contents, among which he was destined to 
 come across a document of considerable in- 
 terest to him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 BERT OBTAINS AN IMPORTANT CLEW. 
 
 MR. HARDING was not a literary man, and 
 his papers would hardly have been of any 
 value to a publisher. They consisted prin- 
 cipally of letters, some of them ten years old. 
 It seemed to have been a habit of Ralph Hard- 
 ing to keep his letters, though he probablv 
 set no great value upon them.
 
 214 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Bert opened fifteen or twenty, and glanced 
 over them, only to find that they related to 
 matters in which he felt no interest whatever. 
 He began to doubt whether they were even 
 worth the small sum he had paid for them, 
 when all at once he made a discovery. He 
 found a letter dated Lakeville. 
 
 " Who can have written him from Lake- 
 ville? " he asked himself, and naturally 
 turned the page to read the signature. 
 
 His heart beat quickly when he read the 
 name of the writer Albert Marlowe. It was 
 dated about two years previous, and ran as 
 follows : 
 
 DEAR SIR : I have received your letter, and am surprised 
 that you should have the boldness to write to me for money. I 
 am sorry to hear that you have been in bad luck, but I presume 
 it is your own fault. You are able to earn gooc". wages, and 
 ought to pay your own way without depending on anybody. 
 Look at me ! I was once a common workman like you, but, 
 thanks to my energy and enterprise, I am now the owner of a 
 large factory, and able to live in comparative luxury. I don't 
 know why you should expect me to support you. I have a 
 family of my own to care for, and my first duty is to them. 
 
 You intimate that you are in possession of a secret which, if 
 made known, will injure me. I suppose I know what you 
 mean. I don't think, however, that you will find any one to 
 believe what you may say to my disadvantage, and I warn you 
 to be careful what you do, or I may testify that j r ou yourself 
 took the missing bonds. Don't trouble yourself to write to me 
 again, for it will be time thrown away. 
 
 ALBERT MARLOWE.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 215 
 
 Underneath the signature were a few lines, 
 evidently written by Ralph Harding: 
 
 Who would believe that the writer of this letter is a thief, 
 and that the capital on which he started in business was stolen ? 
 I bitterly repent that I was induced to join in the plot against 
 poor Barton. He poor fellow is in exile, afraid to return to 
 his own country, while the man who committed the crime 
 which has shadowed his life, is rich and prosperous, and holds 
 up his head in society. And I miserable tool that I was by 
 my testimony helped him to fasten the crime on an innocent 
 man. I don't know whether it will do any good to write again. 
 I am a poor man, and Albert Marlowe is rich. He will defy me, 
 and perhaps swear that I was implicated in the robbery myaelf . 
 So I was, alas ! for I accepted a bribe of two hundred dollars 
 for my part in the matter. I wish I could see poor Barton 
 righted I 
 
 Bert read this letter with flushed face and 
 beating heart. Here was proof positive that 
 his father was innocent; and Albert Marlowe, 
 the rich manufacturer, the magnate of Lake- 
 ville, was guilty not only of robbery, but, 
 what was even more contemptible, had 
 Bchemed successfully to throw the guilt upon 
 an innocent man, the husband of his cousin. 
 Through him John Barton had suffered a ten- 
 years' exile, and had been deprived for that 
 time of his good name and the society of hie 
 family. 
 
 " I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for 
 this letter," said Bert to himself in exultation. 
 " I don't know what it amounts to in the eyes
 
 216 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 of the law, but I am sure it is valuable. Now, 
 if I could only find Kalph Harding himself." 
 
 Bert continued his search among the letters, 
 and finally found one postmarked Peoria, Il- 
 linois, which appeared to have been received 
 by Ralph Harding about a week before he left 
 Harrisburg. 
 
 This is an extract therefrom : 
 
 It is five years since I have seen you. This is a long separa- 
 tion considering that we two are the only ones left of the 
 family. If you are in your old business as I infer from youi 
 letter, why cant you get work just as well here in Peoria as in 
 Harrisburg? There is a large shop here, where I think you 
 would not have any difficulty in securing employment. I pre- 
 sume as good wages are paid here as at the East. We have a 
 small room which you could occupy, and it would be pleasant 
 for a brother and sister who have been so long separated to 
 find themselves under the same roof. 
 
 My husband is a carpenter, as you know. His earnings are 
 not large, and he doesn't always have work, but we have a little 
 sum saved up which we can fall back upon in time of need. I 
 can't lend you any money, and indeed you ought not to expect 
 it, as you are a single man, and have no one to take care of but 
 yourself. I am afraid you are not a very good manager. Come 
 to Peoria, and I will see if I can't help you save money. Con- 
 sider what a position you would be in if you should fall sick. 
 Your affectionate sister, 
 
 HELEN CLIF-H--:. 
 
 Underneath, in Ralph Harding's handwil. 
 ing, was this brief indorsement: 
 
 All true, every word of it ! Helen was always prudent and a 
 good manager. It is true, as she says, that there are but two 
 of us. Why shouldn't I go to Peoria, an 3 se-3 bar?
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 217 
 
 There was no more; but as Ralph Harding 
 a week later left Harrisburg, it seemed fair to 
 infer that he had adopted his own half-ex- 
 pressed intention, and gone to Peoria, to see 
 his sister, especially as. there seemed a good 
 chance of his obtaining work there in his own 
 line. 
 
 " Peoria ! " repeated Bert thoughtfully. 
 " The chances are that Ralph Harding went 
 there from Harrisburg, and it is very probable 
 that he is there now. I wish I could find some 
 one that could tell me about the place." 
 
 " Mr. Pearson," he said, when he met the 
 associate manager at rehearsal, " can you tell 
 me anything about Peoria? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the actor. " What do you 
 want to know about it? " 
 
 " How large a place is it? " 
 
 " About the size of Harrisburg. I don't 
 believe there is a thousand difference in the 
 population." 
 
 '* Is it far from here? " 
 
 " A matter of six or seven hundred miles, I 
 should think, perhaps a little more. It is 
 southeast of Chicago. Why do you want to 
 know? " 
 
 " I want to find a man who, I have reason 
 to think, is now living there. I may have to
 
 218 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 leave the company, as it is very important for 
 me to find this man." 
 
 " There will be no occasion for you to leave 
 the company. When we leave Harrisburg, we 
 jump to Chicago, and probably three weeks 
 from now we shall be playing in Peoria. It is 
 on our list of places, and is a very good city 
 for a short engagement. Will that be soon 
 enough? " 
 
 Bert hesitated. If he remained w r ith the 
 company, his expenses 1 would be paid out to 
 Peoria, and he would be earning fifteen dollars 
 a week besides. 
 
 "Come, now, don't hesitate!" said Mr. 
 Pearson. " We shouldn't know how to get 
 along without you." 
 
 Naturally this pleased Bert, and helped to 
 fix his resolution. 
 
 " I don't know but I can wait two or three 
 weeks," he said slowly, " if you are sure we 
 shall play at Peoria." 
 
 " I am certain of it. The route was made 
 up this morning. We are having some nevi 
 bills printed in which your name is substi- 
 tuted for that of Bob Hazleton. So you see, 
 my boy, you will be getting a reputation un- 
 der your own colors." 
 
 This had its effect, for Bert felt that he 
 should like to have a bill of the play in which
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 219 
 
 his own name appeared. Otherwise he might 
 find his friends incredulous as to his having 
 actually been upon the stage. Later in the 
 day he gave his promise that he would go 
 with the company when they left Harrisburg, 
 but would not sign an engagement for any 
 definite time, as he did not wish to put any 
 obstacle in the way of his following any clew ' 
 that might lead to the discovery of Harding. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Barton," said Mrs. Stubbs after " 
 supper, " did you find anything of value in 
 that box of papers? " 
 
 " Yes ; I obtained some information that 
 will probably be of value. Besides it gave me 
 a clew to his present residence." 
 
 " Indeed," said Angelica, who was present, 
 " where is he? " 
 
 " In Peoria, Illinois. He has a married 
 sister living there." 
 
 "Shall you go out West to find him?" 
 
 " I expect to go with the company. They 
 will play an engagement in Peoria." 
 
 "If you see Mr. Harding, please remember 
 me to him. Say that is, you may hint that I 
 still think of him with interest, and and 
 hope he will some day return to us." 
 
 " That message ought to bring him, Miss 
 Angelica." 
 
 " Of course I only think of him as a friend,
 
 22O Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 but we were very congenial, and it is not often 
 that one meets a congenial spirit." 
 
 " Why not send a letter to Mr. Harding by 
 me?" 
 
 " I that is; mamma, do you think it would 
 be proper? " asked Angelica with bashful 
 hesitation. 
 
 " I don't know why not," answered Mrs. 
 Stubbs promptly. " You might ask in the 
 letter when it will be convenient for him to 
 pay his board bill." 
 
 " Oh, ma, how unromantic ! " 
 
 " It may not be romantic, Angelica, but it's 
 business," said the practical mother. 
 
 Miss Stubbs did write the letter, but it is 
 certain she did not mention the board bill 
 in it. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 SQUIRE MARLOWE IS SURPRISED. 
 
 IT may be well to return to Lakeville, as 
 something has occurred there which deserves 
 to be recorded. 
 
 It is needless to say that Mrs. Barton missed 
 Bert, whose bright and cheerful presence had 
 filled the little house with comfort and glad-
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 221 
 
 dened his mother's heart. Still she knew that 
 he was well, and heard from him every week, 
 though Bert only detailed his experiences in 
 general terms, not caring to raise expectations 
 which perhaps might prove illusive. 
 
 Bert's absence from Lakeville excited some 
 surprise and speculation. Squire Marlowe, to 
 whom it had been mentioned by Percy, 
 stopped Mrs. Barton in the street one day, 
 and said : " Percy tells me that your son is 
 away." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Where is he? " 
 
 " He went to New York." 
 
 " Is he at work there? " 
 
 " No, he is travelling." 
 
 "Travelling? What do you mean?" 
 
 " Uncle Jacob has sent him off on some 
 mission. He is at Harrisburg, I believe." 
 
 "That is very strange!" remarked the 
 equire, arching his eyebrows. " What possi- 
 ble mission can Jacob have for the boy?" 
 
 " He doesn't write particulars; but his 
 expenses are paid." 
 
 " I don't see how Jacob Marlowe, with his 
 paltry twelve dollars a week, can make such 
 arrangements." 
 
 " Nor I ; but probably Uncle Jacob has in- 
 terested his employer in Bert."
 
 222 Five -Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " It may be so, but I think it very unwise 
 to send off a boy by himself. What judgment 
 has he, or what can he do? " 
 
 " I don't very well know. He seems to en- 
 joy the trip." 
 
 "Of course; but it will spoil him for solid 
 work. He had better have stayed at home." 
 
 " What encouragement was there for him 
 to stay in Lakeville? If you had not dis- 
 charged him, he would be here now. If you 
 will take him back into the factory, I will 
 write him to that effect, and perhaps it will 
 induce him to return." 
 
 " Ahem ! I will think of it. Does he send 
 you any money?" 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " Then how do you live?" 
 
 " Without calling upon you, Albert," said 
 Mrs. Barton, with a little tinge of bitterness. 
 " I hardly think you feel enough interest in 
 me to care how I live." 
 
 Albert Marlowe was somewhat embarrassed, 
 and regretted that he had asked the question. 
 Mrs. Barton might take it into her head that 
 he was willing to contribute to her support, 
 and this was far from being the case. 
 
 " Women look at things from a peculiar 
 point of view," he said. "Of course I wish 
 you well, and for that reason regret that you
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 223 
 
 are so injudicious in your management of 
 Bert." 
 
 ] " I have no fear but that Bert will turn out 
 well," rejoined Mrs. Barton proudly, 
 i " Ahem ! I hope so, though that twenty- 
 dollar affair led me to fear that he had in- 
 j herited loose ideas about honesty." 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. 
 Barton, her cheeks 1 aflame with indignation. 
 
 " I shouldn't think you would need to ask. 
 Of course we both know why Mr. Barton is 
 an exile, unable to return home." 
 
 " Yes, Albert Marlowe, we do know ! He is 
 an innocent man, suffering for the crime of 
 another." 
 
 " That is what he says, is it? " sneered the 
 squire. " That might be expected." 
 
 " Because it is true ; but, Albert Marlowe, 
 I have good hopes that his innocence may be 
 vindicated, and the real criminal brought to 
 light." 
 
 Her intense gaze made the squire uncom- 
 fortable. " Did she mean anything? " ht 
 asked himself. 
 
 " It is natural for you to take the most 
 favorable view of the matter," he said ; " but 
 your hope is hardly likely to be realized. 
 Good-morning." 
 
 Mrs. Barton looked after him, and her spirit
 
 224 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 rose in revolt against the inequalities of for- 
 tune. Here was the real criminal, as she 
 fully believed rich, prosperous, enjoying a 
 high social position, while her poor husband, 
 the scapegoat for another's offense, was an 
 exile from home. 
 
 The next day Squire Marlowe went to New 
 York on business. He occasionally visited 
 Wall Street, and now and then made an in- 
 vestment. He looked the embodiment of dig- 
 nity and respectability, with his ample figure, 
 fine broadcloth suit, and gold-rimmed eye- 
 glasses, and might readily have been taken for 
 a prosperous and wealthy city banker. 
 
 About one o'clock he entered an expensive 
 restaurant, a stone's throw from Broadway, 
 and taking up the bill of fare made a selec- 
 tion of dishes for his dinner. As he did so, 
 he said to himself, with a comfortable smile: 
 " When I was a common workman in a shoe 
 shop, how little did I think that I should ever 
 be able to sit down in a restaurant like this, 
 and pay a dollar and a half for my dinner. 
 Why, I didn't earn much more than that by a 
 day's labor. Here I am surrounded by bro- 
 kers, bankers, and wealthy merchants, and 
 quite as good as they." 
 
 The thought led Squire Marlowe to look 
 around him. What he saw almost paralyzed
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 225 
 
 him with surprise. There at a neighboring 
 table sat Uncle Jacob, enjoying a luxurious 
 dinner, the cost of which the squire, with the 
 bill of fare before him, estimated must come 
 to a high figure. 
 
 "Can that be Uncle Jacob?" Albert Mar- 
 lowe asked himself in amazement. " How 
 on earth can a clerk on twelve dollars a week 
 salary afford to dine at a restaurant like 
 this? " 
 
 As he had not yet given his order, he moved 
 over to the table occupied by Uncle Jacob, and 
 took a seat opposite him. 
 
 " Albert Marlowe ! " exclaimed the old man, 
 recognizing him with surprise. 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Jacob, it is I. But what on 
 earth brings you here? " 
 
 " I should think it was pretty evident," said 
 Jacob Marlowe with a smile, " I came in for 
 my dinner." 
 
 " Yes, but do you usually come here? " 
 
 " yot always perhaps half the time. I 
 make my heartiest meal of the day at this 
 ti me unlike most New Yorkers and like it 
 to be a good one." 
 
 " Of course, but how can you afford to eat 
 here? Didn't you say that your salary was 
 twelve dollars a week?" 
 
 " I think I said so,"
 
 226 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " You are spending at that rate for your 
 dinners alone. I don't understand how you 
 can do it." 
 
 " I am an old man, Albert. I can't live 
 many years, and I think it sensible to get as 
 much comfort out of life as possible for my 
 few remaining years." 
 
 still " 
 
 " I had a little money, you know, five hun- 
 dred dollars, and I have managed to turn it 
 to good account, so that I don't feel quite so 
 cramped as when I was at Lakeville." 
 
 " The old man's been speculating! " thought 
 Albert Marlowe, " and he has had a stroke of 
 luck; but he's a fool to think he can live like 
 a banker on the strength of that. Very likely 
 his next venture will sweep away his small 
 amount of capital. Well, if he comes to grief, 
 he needn't apply to me. Henceforth I wash 
 my hands of him and his affairs altogether." 
 
 " Of course it's your own lookout," he 
 said, " but to me you seem recklessly extrava- 
 gant." 
 
 " Because I come in here? Well, perhaps 
 so. When I find I can't afford it, I'll go to a 
 cheaper place. Have you seen Mary Barton 
 lately? " 
 
 " Yes ; she is well. By the way, what have 
 you done with her boy? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 227 
 
 " He is traveling." 
 
 " So I heard. It seems to me a very foolish 
 proceeding. Who is paying his expenses? " 
 
 " Himself." 
 
 " Is he working, then? " asked the squire in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Yes; he is a member of the l Streets of 
 Gotham ' company, and is earning his living 
 as an actor." 
 
 " What does he know about acting? " asked 
 the squire in amazement. 
 
 " It appears that he is giving satisfaction. 
 He sent me a paper containing a highly com- 
 mendatory notice of his first appearance." 
 
 " It won't last," said Albert Marlowe, his 
 wish being father to the thought. 
 
 When he returned to Lakeville that evening, 
 he carried with him two pieces of news first, 
 that Uncle Jacob was living in luxury, and 
 secondly, that Bert Barton was on the stage. 
 
 " If he can act, I can," said Percy jealously. 
 " They must have been hard up for an actor 
 when they took Bert Barton. A boy brought 
 up in a country town. Never been to a 
 theatre in his life before. Pooh! I dare say 
 he appeared for one night only. The idea of 
 Mary Barton's son acting before a regular 
 audience, a boy who has hoed corn for farmer 
 Wilson ! "
 
 228 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 HIRAM FRENCH, OF CHICAGO. 
 
 FROM Harrisburg the dramatic company 
 with which Bert was connected went directly 
 to Chicago. 
 
 " We don't like to make such long jumps," 
 said Mr. Pearson, with whom Bert had be- 
 come quite friendly, " but we could secure 
 Hooley's Theatre this week, and no other. 
 Were you ever in Chicago? " 
 
 " No," answered Bert. " I have never trav- 
 eled much. I suppose you have." 
 
 " Yes ; I went out to San Francisco last 
 year with the * Silver King.' You will find 
 Chicago a pleasant city." 
 
 " Are the hotels dear? " 
 
 " No; only moderate in price. The theatri- 
 cal people get a discount, you know." 
 
 " I think I should rather live in a board- 
 ing house." 
 
 " That will be cheaper. I don't mind going 
 with you to keep you company." 
 
 " Do you know of any good house? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 229 
 
 " I know a very comfortable boarding-bouse 
 on Monroe Street, kept by Mrs. Shelby, a 
 widow lady. My sister once boarded there, 
 when visiting Chicago." 
 
 " That will suit me, I think. Would you 
 mind going 'round with me? " 
 
 " I'll take you there, with pleasure." 
 
 The two, on arriving in Chicago, went at 
 once to Monroe Street, and called at the board- 
 ing-house. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Mr. Pearson," said 
 the widow cordially. " Is your sister with 
 you?" 
 
 " Not this time." 
 
 "Are you going to play here?" 
 
 "Yes; I shall appear at Hooley's Theatre 
 all next week." 
 
 " Is that young gentleman your brother? " 
 
 " No, he is one of our actors, Mr. Bert Bar- 
 ton." 
 
 " He looks young for an actor," said the 
 landlady, surprised. 
 
 " I appeared on the stage when I was only 
 twelve. But we have come on business, Mrs. 
 Shelby. Have you a vacant room?" 
 
 " Yes ; I had one vacated yesterday." 
 
 " Suppose Mr. Barton and myself take it 
 for 3 week? "
 
 230 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " I shall be glad to have you. I can't af- 
 ford to have my rooms remain vacant." 
 
 " What will be your terms?" 
 
 " Six dollars each, including board." 
 
 " Is that satisfactory, Bert? " asked Pear- 
 son. 
 
 " Quite so, Mr. Pearson." 
 
 " Then we will take possession. I hope it 
 is almost time for a meal, Mrs. Shelby. I am 
 almost famished." 
 
 " You will only have to wait an hour. I 
 will show you to your rooms, and then I must 
 be excused, as my presence is required down- 
 stairs." 
 
 The room shown by the landlady was of fair 
 size and neatly furnished. Bert looked about 
 him in satisfaction. 
 
 " I would rather be here than at a hotel," 
 he said. 
 
 " So would I, as long as I have a compan- 
 ion," returned Mr. Pearson. " Besides, I 
 shall be saving from four to five dollars a 
 week. I ought to pay more than half of it, 
 as I am receiving a considerably higher salary 
 than you." 
 
 " No, Mr. Pearson, I prefer to pay my 
 share. But for you I should be paying more 
 at a hotel." 
 
 Bert felt a little diffidence in appearing be-
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 231 
 
 fore a Chicago audience. He had, to be sure, 
 been favorably received in Harrisburg, but he 
 had an idea that in a larger city it would be 
 more difficult to achieve success. The first 
 night undeceived him. He received a liberal 
 share of applause, and was called before the 
 curtain. 
 
 " I congratulate you, Bert," said Mr. Pear- 
 son. " You seem to have made yourself solid 
 with the audience." 
 
 " I am glad that I give satisfaction," re- 
 turned Bert. " It will encourage me to do 
 better." 
 
 " You had better adopt the profession of an 
 actor," continued his friend. 
 
 Bert shook his head. 
 
 " I prefer to enter a business of some kind," 
 he said. " Though I have succeeded in one 
 part, I am not sure that I should succeed in 
 others." 
 
 Bert was about leaving the theatre that 
 night when the call boy brought him a card. 
 
 " There is a gentleman at the door would 
 like t<? see you," he said. 
 
 Bert glanced at the card, and found it bore 
 the name of 
 
 HIRAM FRENCH. 
 
 It was a name he had never before heard, 
 and when he reached the door he looked in
 
 232 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 quiringly at the middle-aged gentleman who 
 stood before him. 
 
 " You are young Barton? " said the visitor. 
 
 "Yes; that is my name." 
 
 " Are you the son of John Barton, who 
 once worked in the shoe factory of Weeks 
 Brothers?'' 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Bert, coloring, for he 
 knew that the stranger must be aware that 
 his father was resting under a criminal 
 charge. 
 
 " I thought I could not be mistaken. You 
 look as your father did at your age." 
 
 " Then you knew my father as a boy? " said 
 Bert, eagerly. 
 
 " I was a schoolmate of his. Later on I 
 was employed in the same factory with him 
 that of Weeks Brothers 1 ." 
 
 " Did you know under what circumstances 
 he left the factory? " asked Bert, with some 
 embarrassment. 
 
 " Yes, I knew all about it. But I want 
 you to come home and pass the night at my 
 house, and we will talk over that and other 
 matters." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I will give notice to a 
 friend who rooms with me." 
 
 Bert found Mr. Pearson, and informed him 
 that he would absent himself for one night
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 233 
 
 from Mrs. Shelby's boarding-house. Then he 
 returned to Mr. French. 
 
 " I live on Indiana Avenue," explained the 
 latter. " We shall find a car at the corner of 
 State and Madison Streets." 
 
 As they walked to the car, Bert's new friend 
 asked : " How long have you been on the 
 stage, Mr. Barton?" 
 
 " Only two weeks." 
 
 " You don't mean that that comprises your 
 whole experience." 
 
 " Yes. I stepped in at Harrisburg to sup- 
 ply the place of a young actor who was taken 
 sick." 
 
 " You act as if you had been trained to it. 
 But how came you to be at Harrisburg? That 
 is not your home? " 
 
 " No. As you were my father's friend, I 
 will tell you what brought me out there." 
 
 Bert briefly related the story that is already 
 known to the reader. Hiram French listened 
 with great attention. 
 
 " I remember Ralph Harding," he said. 
 " He was not popular among his shopmates, 
 especially after his agency in throwing suspi- 
 cion upon your father." 
 
 " Was it generally thought that my father 
 was guilty? " asked Bert. 
 
 " No ; while circumstances were strong
 
 234 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 against him, no one could believe that a man 
 whose reputation for integrity was as high as 
 your father's would be guilty of stealing. But 
 the good will of his associates could not help 
 him." 
 
 " Did you know Mr. Marlowe? " 
 
 "Albert Marlowe? Yes." 
 
 "Was he well liked?" 
 
 " Not by me. He was far from being as 
 highly respected as your father." 
 
 " Yet he has prospered. He is the owner 
 of a factory in Lakeville, and is considered 
 worth thirty thousand dollars." 
 
 " I am surprised to hear it. When I knew 
 him he was always in debt." 
 
 " If he really took the bonds charged upon 
 my father, that would account for his start 
 in business." 
 
 " Exactly so. Now that I think of it, two 
 or three days after the theft, I saw him and 
 Ralph Harding walking together, apparently 
 engaged in earnest conversation. They evi- 
 dently had a good understanding with each 
 other. I believe you are on the right track, 
 and I heartily hope you will succeed in mak- 
 ing your father's innocence evident to the 
 world. John Barton was my favorite friend, 
 and I hope some day to see him in Chicago." 
 
 "Are you in business here, Mr. French?"
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 235 
 
 "Yes; I am in the old line. Like Albert 
 Marlowe, I am the owner of a large shoe fac- 
 tory, and I am worth, I should say, consider- 
 ably more money." 
 
 Hiram French occupied a handsome house 
 on Indiana Avenue, furnished with taste, and 
 was, as his style of living showed, in easy cir- 
 cumstances. He introduced Bert to his wife 
 and daughter, who seemed at once drawn to 
 the young actor. When he left the house the 
 next morning after breakfast he was urgently 
 invited to call again during his stay, and par- 
 tially promised to do so. But he was in haste 
 to reach Peoria, for there it was he hoped to 
 find a witness that would vindicate his father's 
 name and fame. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A LATE ARRIVAL AT MRS. BARTON'S COTTAGE. 
 
 ONE evening, about eight o'clock, Mrs. Bar- 
 ton was sewing in her little sitting-room when 
 an unusual feeling of loneliness overcame her. 
 Circumstances had separated her from her 
 husband, and her only son was hundreds of 
 miles away. 
 
 " Why," she asked herself, " can I not fare
 
 236 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 as well as other wives and mothers? I am a 
 wife, yet I cannot enjoy my husband's society. 
 Fortunately I am not likely long to be sepa- 
 rated from Bert. If he only succeeds in his 
 mission, and comes home able to vindicate the 
 fame of his father, and restore him to me, I 
 shall be perfectly happy." 
 
 She felt unusually restless, and found it 
 difficult to keep on with her work. 
 
 " I feel as if something were going to hap- 
 pen. I hope no misfortune is impending over 
 me." 
 
 She had hardly spoken when the door bell 
 rang. 
 
 " It is some neighbor come to make a call," 
 she thought. " I am glad of it, for I am not 
 in the mood for work." 
 
 She rose and opened the door. She started 
 back in surprise when in her visitors she recog- 
 nized Uncle Jacob, and leaning upon his arm 
 the husband of whom she had just been think- 
 ing. 
 
 "May we come in?" asked Uncle Jacob, 
 cheerily. 
 
 " Surely, but has anything happened? " 
 
 " Only this; that your husband is sick and 
 has come here to be nursed back to health by 
 my advice." 
 
 " But is it safe? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 237 
 
 " I think so. The fact is, Bert has made an 
 important discovery, and is likely to make 
 more. We are in a fair way to prove your 
 husband's innocence, and put the guilt where 
 it belongs.'' 
 
 " And where does 1 it belong? " 
 
 " The man who stole the bonds, we have 
 every reason to believe, is Albert Marlowe." 
 
 u I do not wish to get him into trouble, but 
 if it is necessary in order to vindicate my hus- 
 band's reputation, I will not object." 
 
 " Albert Marlowe has been a cruel enemy to 
 you and your family," said Jacob Marlowe, 
 sternly. " He is entitled to no consideration. 
 The past ten years cannot be recalled; but I 
 think that we shall be able to provide a 
 brighter future for yourself and Mr. Barton. 
 The first thing to do is to get him well." 
 
 "What is the matter with you, John?" 
 asked Mrs. Barton, now for the first time not- 
 ing with alarm her husband's pale face. 
 
 " The doctor says my system is run down, 
 and that I need time to recuperate. I was liv- 
 ing in a boarding-house in Montreal, and the 
 prospect of being sick there was too much for 
 me. I wanted my wife to take care of me, 
 and, taking the first train to New York, I con- 
 sulted Uncle Jacob as to whether it would be 
 safe. In the light of Bert's discoveries he told
 
 238 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 me to take the risk. So here I am. May I 
 stay?" 
 
 " Do you need to ask that? " said Mrs. Bar- 
 ton, with an affectionate glance at her hus- 
 band. " There is no place where you have a 
 better right to be." 
 
 Then, as she thought of her scanty means, 
 a momentary look of anxiety overspread her 
 face lest she should not be able to provide him 
 with the medicines and nourishing food that 
 he required. Uncle Jacob, who was a keen ob- 
 server, read her thoughts, and reassured her 
 by saying: "Mr. Barton is provided with 
 what money may be required for at least a 
 month, and after that time I think some more 
 can be found." 
 
 " But, Uncle Jacob, I cannot consent to im- 
 pose upon your liberality any further. You 
 have but a small sum of money yourself. 
 What would happen to you if you should fall 
 sick?" 
 
 " I think I should follow your husband's 
 example, and come here to be nursed back to 
 health," replied Uncle Jacob. 
 
 " What am I to say to the neighbors, for 
 they will lie sure to inquire? " 
 
 " Say that you are taking care of a sick gen- 
 tleman from New York." 
 
 " It will not do to give his real name? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 239 
 
 " No ; call me Mr. Robinson, as you did on 
 my former visit," said Mr. Barton. 
 
 " Now that this matter is arranged, can you 
 take care of us- both to-night? " asked Uncle 
 Jacob. 
 
 " Yes, there is Bert's room." 
 " Then I will trespass upon your hospitality 
 for one night." 
 
 " Can't you stay longer, Uncle Jacob? " 
 " No, I must get back to business. I must 
 
 not run any risk of losing my situation, you 
 
 know." 
 
 " To be sure not," said Mrs. Barton, earn- 
 estly. Do you like your employer, Uncle 
 Jacob? " 
 
 " I have no reason to complain of him," an- 
 swered the old man, with a smile. " He lets 
 me do about as I please." 
 
 " You were very lucky in getting in with 
 him." 
 
 "As you say, I am in good luck. But I 
 think I ought to get higher pay." 
 
 " It seems to me twelve dollars a week is a 
 very good salary," said Mrs. Barton, soberly. 
 " You could save something out of that if you 
 were not so generous." 
 
 " I must think seriously of that, Mary. If 
 I get mean and close-fisted, you mustn't be
 
 240 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 surprised. It will be only because I follow 
 your advice." 
 
 " You can never become mean or close- 
 fisted, Uncle Jacob. It isn't in your nature 
 to be either. But I hope you will be reason- 
 ably economical, and not give away so much 
 money to others." 
 
 " You are a good little woman, Mary," said 
 Uncle Jacob, feelingly. "If you are ever 
 blessed with means, you will do just as you 
 advise me not to do. Don't be worried about 
 me, Mary. God loves a cheerful giver, you 
 know, and whatever I give to you is cheerfully 
 given." 
 
 An hour was spent in conversation, and 
 then, as Mr. Barton showed fatigue, he and 
 Uncle Jacob retired to bed, and Mrs. Barton 
 mixed some flour so as to be able to give her 
 guests warm biscuits in the morning, for she 
 remembered that her husband had been very 
 fond of them in former years. 
 
 The next morning after breakfast Uncle 
 Jacob took his departure. 
 
 " I leave you in good hands, John," he said 
 to Mr. Barton. " Now, get well as fast as 
 you can." 
 
 " There is one thing that will make me 
 well," said Barton, " and that is, vindication 
 from the false charge that has darkened my
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 241 
 
 life and destroyed my happiness during the 
 last ten years." 
 
 " That is coming, and coming soon," said 
 Uncle Jacob. " Only be patient a little while. 
 Bert has already made a discovery that makes 
 it clear who is the real criminal." 
 
 " I hope he will never suffer as I have 
 done," said the sick man. 
 
 " You have a more Christian spirit than I, 
 John. I think it only right that he should 
 suffer for the wrong he has done you. Well, 
 good-by. Let me hear from you, and if Bert 
 makes any further progress in his mission, I 
 will apprise you and Mary." 
 
 Uncle Jacob left the village without being 
 seen by Albert Marlowe or Percy, who alone 
 were likely to recognize him. But it leaked 
 out that Mrs. Barton had a boarder, Percy be- 
 ing the first to hear of it. 
 
 "What do you think, papa?" he said one 
 day. " Bert Barton's mother has taken a 
 boarder from the city." 
 
 " A boarder from the city?" repeated Squire 
 Marlowe, surprised. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "What brought him to Lakeville?" 
 
 " I don't know. I can tell you who brought 
 him here." 
 
 "Who, then?"
 
 242 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Uncle Jacob." 
 
 " Has he been here, then? " 
 
 " Yes; he came in the evening and went back 
 the next morning." 
 
 " I wonder he did not call opon us/' said 
 the squire thoughtfully. 
 
 " It's no great loss if he didn't," returned 
 Percy, pertly. " He would probably want to 
 borrow money." 
 
 "No; he appears to be doing very well in 
 the city ; that is, for him. But what could in- 
 duce a gentleman from the city to come here 
 to Lakeville to board in a humble cottage? " 
 
 " I hear he is in poor health," said Percy. 
 
 " Have you seen him? Do you know what 
 his appearance is? " 
 
 " Yes. I &aw him sitting at Mrs. Barton's 
 window. He is of dark complexion, and has 
 dark hair. Then he seemed to have a high 
 forehead." 
 
 Squire Marlowe started in surprise. 
 
 " Dark complexion, dark hair, a high fore- 
 head ! Is it possible that it can be " 
 
 " Who, father? " asked Percy, curiously. 
 
 " Never mind, my son. Some one whom I 
 used to know answers to that description." 
 
 As Percy went out, Albert Marlowe said tot 
 himself: " If it should be he, what shall I do 
 about it? It is not for my interest that he
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 243 
 
 should remain in Lakeville. I might de- 
 nounce him to the authorities, but I would 
 warn him first. Then, if he still lingers, he 
 must take the consequences." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 BERT INTERVIEWS HARDING'S BISTER, 
 
 THE next week Bert found himself in Pe- 
 oria. His heart beat with excitement, for here 
 he hoped he would attain the object he had in 
 view. 
 
 The first day he was occupied in obtaining 
 a boarding place, and in matters connected 
 with the play. He understood his duty to 
 his employers, and, eager as he was to seek 
 out Ralph Harding, he waited till he could do 
 so without intrenching upon their time. 
 
 After considerable inquiry he found him- 
 self standing in front of a neat-looking frame 
 house of two stories in a quiet street. The 
 plate on the front door bore the name 
 CLIFTON. 
 
 Bert rang the bell. 
 
 The door was opened by a girl about twelve 
 years of age.
 
 244 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Clifton at home? " asked Bert. 
 
 "Yes, sir. Won't you walk in?" 
 
 She led the way into a tiny parlor, so small 
 that the owner would have found it difficult 
 to give a fashionable party, or indeed any 4 
 party at all. 
 
 " Sit down here," said the young girl, point- 
 ing to a rocking-chair, " and I will call ma." 
 
 Bert took a seat, and was startled a minute 
 later by a hoarse voice saying, with much 
 energy, " Get out, you tramp ! " 
 
 He looked around the room in angry amaze- 
 ment, but could see no one. 
 
 Directly afterward he heard a discordant 
 laugh, and, guided by the sound, looked up to 
 see that it proceeded from a green parrot in 
 a cage above his head. 
 
 Bert smiled. It was impossible for him to 
 be angry with a parrot, however impolite the 
 bird might be. 
 
 Just then a lady entered the room a lady 
 of middle size and middle age, plain in fea- 
 ture, but not unpleasant to look upon. 
 
 " Did you wish to see me, sir? " she asked. 
 
 " Are you the sister of Ralph Harding? " 
 asked Bert. 
 
 The woman's face changed instantly. 
 
 " Yes," she answered eagerly. " Do you
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 245 
 
 bring me any news of him? He is not in trou- 
 pe, is hs 9 " 
 
 It was Bert's turn to be surprised. 
 
 " I thought he was staying with you," he 
 said. 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 " But he has been here. He came here from 
 Harrisburg, didn't he? " 
 
 " Yes, and he was here till three weeks ago. 
 Then he came home from the shop where he 
 was at work and told me he was going away." 
 
 " Did he tell you where he was going? " 
 asked Bert, eagerly. 
 
 " He said he should go to Chicago first, but 
 I have not heard from him since he went 
 away." 
 
 Ralph Harding then was in Chicago. If 
 Bert had only known that, he would have re- 
 mained there and prosecuted the search in 
 the Lake City. Yet what chance would he 
 have of finding a man whom he had never seen 
 and would not know by sight in so large and 
 populous a place? 
 
 His face showed the keenness of his disap- 
 pointment, and Mrs. Clifton was led to in- 
 quire: 
 
 " Did you wish to see my brother on busi- 
 ness of importance? " 
 
 " Of importance to me, yes."
 
 246 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Is it," she asked with hesitation, " likely 
 to get Kalph into trouble? " 
 
 " No, madam. On the contrary, if I find 
 him it will be of advantage to him." 
 
 " Then I hope you may find him. But I am 
 afraid it will be difficult. Kalph is very rest- 
 less. We tried all we could to keep him here, 
 but it was of no use. He had a good place, 
 and, though I say it myself, a good home, 
 where he enjoyed every comfort, but all that 
 didn't prevent him leaving us to go among 
 strangers," she concluded, with a sigh. 
 
 " I only just came from Chicago. I w r ish I 
 had known that he was there." 
 
 " Did you come to Peoria expressly to see 
 my brother? " asked Mrs. Clifton, showing 
 some curiosity. 
 
 " Not entirely. I am connected with the 
 theatrical company. We play the t Streets of 
 Gotham.' " 
 
 " Are you an actor, and so young," asked 
 Mrs. Clifton, in surprise. 
 
 " I take a small part in the play," answered 
 Bert, modestly. " Allow me to place two ad- 
 mission tickets at your disposal." 
 
 "Oh ma, can I go with you?" asked the 
 young girl who had opened the front door. 
 
 " Perhaps so, Belle." 
 
 ' Have you any picture of your brother
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 247 
 
 which you could show me?" asked Bert, re- 
 turning to the object of his visit. 
 
 " Fortunately, Ralph had some photographs 
 taken while he was here. But for me he 
 would not have done so, but I insisted, and 
 paid for them myself. Belle, go and get one 
 of the pictures of your Uncle Ralph." 
 
 The little girl left the room, and soon re- 
 turned with a photograph. 
 
 " You can have that, if you like," said Mrs. 
 Clifton. " I got a dozen, and Ralph did not 
 feel enough interest to keep one for himself, 
 so I have plenty. I suppose it isn't anything 
 extra, but it look like Ralph." 
 
 Bert was eagerly scanning the picture which 
 Ralph Harding's sister had given him. 
 
 The face was long, the nose aquiline, the 
 cheeks hollow, and the expression was that of 
 a man who was dissatisfied with life. There 
 were side whiskers of scanty growth, and there 
 was a scrubby mustache of yellowish hue. It 
 was a front view, and both ears were visible. 
 They were of extraordinary size and stood out 
 prominently from the head. 
 
 " I think I shall know Ralph Harding if I 
 see him," thought Bert. 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you for the pic- 
 ture," said Bert. " With it to help me I hope 
 I may find your brother."
 
 248 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " If you do," returned Mrs. Clifton, " will 
 you write to me and let me know, Mr. ? " 
 
 " Barton. You will see my name on the 
 playbill Bert Barton. Yes, I will write to 
 you in that case." 
 
 " There is one question I would like to ask 
 you, Mr. Barton. You say you have never 
 met my brother? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then how did you learn that he had a sis- 
 ter in Peoria, and how did you know that that 
 sister was myself." 
 
 " I was staying at his old boarding-house in 
 Harrisburg. He left behind a box of papers, 
 and among those papers was a letter from you, 
 urging him to come to Peoria." 
 
 " I remember that letter." 
 
 "It was that letter excuse my reading it 
 that led me to come to Peoria in search of 
 Mr. Harding." 
 
 " I am glad you came, for I have some hope 
 through you of inducing Ralph to return. 
 You see, Mr. Barton, there are only two of 
 us. I had not seen him for five years, and 
 now that he has left us, five years more may 
 roll by before we meet again. I think Ralph 
 would be better with us. He is not a cheerful 
 man. Sometimes I think he is burdened with 
 a secret which is preying upon him. I am
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 249 
 
 sure he would be better off with us than among 
 strangers." 
 
 " I agree with you, Mrs. Clifton. You 
 may rest assured that, should I be fortunate 
 enough to find your brother, I will do all I 
 can to induce him to return to you when our 
 business is concluded. This may require him 
 to go East, but afterward he will be free to go 
 where he pleases. The secret you refer to may 
 relate to the business upon which I wished to 
 see him. 
 
 As Bert rose to go Mrs. Clifton took his 
 hand, and said, earnestly : " I wish you suc- 
 cess, I am sure. I feel better for your visit." 
 
 The information which Bert had received 
 made him desirous of going back to Chicago 
 as soon as possible and making every effort to 
 find Ralph Harding. But there was one em- 
 barrassment. He did not like to leave the 
 company till they were able to find a substi- 
 tute. In New York this would have been 
 easy, but here in Peoria there would be a great 
 difficulty. 
 
 But he was unexpectedly relieved from this 
 perplexity. 
 
 On Friday morning Mr. Pearson, who had 
 just come from the manager's room, said to 
 him, " I have news for you, Bert." 
 
 " What is it, Mr. Pearson? "
 
 250 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Bob Hazleton has just arrived, and wants 
 to take his old place. But, of course, that 
 would not be fair to you." 
 
 " Tell the manager to take him back," said 
 Bert eagerly. " I have some important busi- 
 ness calling me to Chicago, and I shall be glad 
 to resign." 
 
 " You are sure you won't be disappointed? " 
 
 " Very sure. I have been wondering how I 
 could resign without embarrassing the com- 
 pany." 
 
 " We shall be very sorry to lose you, but if 
 that is the way you feel, Bob is in luck." 
 
 Bert played that evening in the presence of 
 his predecessor in the role, and on Saturday 
 took the morning train for Chicago. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 SUCCESS COMES STRANGELY. 
 
 ON his return to Chicago, Bert went back 
 to Mrs. Shelby's boarding-house, and was cor- 
 dially received. His board bill was but six 
 dollars a week, and he took care not to spend 
 any money unnecessarily for outside expenses. 
 
 About the middle of the week he received a
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 251 
 
 letter from Uncle Jacob, to whom he had tele- 
 graphed his movements. 
 
 This is an extract therefrom : 
 
 " You will be surprised to learn that your 
 father is sick at Lakeville, under your mother's 
 care. I don't think his trouble is physical so 
 much as mental. If, by your help, his repu- 
 tation te vindicated, and he is relieved from 
 suspicion, I am sure he will soon be himself 
 again. 
 
 " There is some risk, no doubt, in the step 
 he has taken. He might be denounced and 
 arrested, if information were given to the au- 
 thorities. But a long time has elapsed since 
 the charge was made, and no one in Lakeville 
 was cognizant of the circumstances except Al- 
 bert Marlowe, and, though he may learn that 
 the city boarder at your house is your father, 
 I cannot believe he would be so base as to give 
 a hint to the authorities. If he should, the 
 letter of Ralph Harding's which you for- 
 warded will throw suspicion upon him. I am 
 anxious, however, to have you find the man 
 himself, as his oral testimony will avail more 
 than any letters. You may assure him, if 
 found, that he will be liberally dealt with, if 
 he helps clear your father. 
 
 " I don't know how you may be situated as
 
 252 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 to money, and I therefore send you an order 
 for fifty dollars. Present it to Clement Green, 
 of No. 13^ La Salle Street, and he will cash 
 it. He is not a banker, but an insurance 
 agent, with whom I am well acquainted. I 
 am glad to hear that you have left the stage, 
 as it will permit you to devote your entire 
 time to hunting up Ralph Harding." 
 
 On account of the income from his dramatic 
 engagement, Bert had spent but little of his 
 uncle's money for the last three weeks. How- 
 ever, he thought it best to cash the order at 
 once, as he might have unforeseen expenses. 
 He accordingly made his way to the office on 
 La Salle Street to which he had been directed, 
 and presented his order to Mr. Green in per- 
 son. 
 
 " How is my old friend Mr. Marlowe? " 
 asked that gentleman, courteously. 
 
 " He was very well when I left New York," 
 answered Bert. 
 
 " I knew him in California. In fact, we 
 both worked together in the same mine. Try 
 to persuade him to come out to Chicago. I 
 should be delighted to entertain him. Are 
 you a relative of his? " 
 
 " Yes, sir; he is my great uncle." 
 
 " Shall you stay long in Chicago? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 253 
 
 " I am not sure. It will depend on my busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " You are young to be intrusted with a busi- 
 ness matter." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but there was no one else to un- 
 dertake it." 
 
 " How will you have the money? " 
 
 " In tens and fives." 
 
 " Very well. Let me advise you to divide 
 your money and not carry it all in your 
 pocket-book. You know, of course, that in a 
 city like this there are pickpockets and de- 
 signing persons who would be glad to rob 
 you." 
 
 " Thank you for the suggestion. I will fol- 
 low your advice." Bert borrowed an en- 
 velope, and put all his money, except about 
 ten dollars in small bills, in the inside pocket 
 of his vest. This was wise, for he had fifty 
 dollars besides the sum which he had just been 
 paid. It proved to be a prudent precaution. 
 
 Outside the office a young man of rather 
 flashy appearance bad noticed Bert, and, fol- 
 lowing him in on some pretext that would 
 avert suspicion, had seen that Mr. Green was 
 paying him money. He went out quickly, and 
 waited till Bert emerged into the street. He 
 then quickened his steps, and overtook him. 
 
 " Good-morning, young man," he said.
 
 254 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Good-morning," returned Bert, eyeing the 
 stranger with some curiosity. 
 
 " You must excuse the liberty I have taken 
 in addressing you, but if you will favor me 
 with a few minutes' conversation, I think I 
 can make it worth your while." 
 
 " Very well. I am ready to hear what you 
 have to say." 
 
 " By the way, are you staying at a hotel? " 
 
 " No; I am boarding on Monroe Street." 
 
 " Is it a good boarding-house?" 
 
 " Excellent." 
 
 " I am looking for one, and if you will allow 
 me, I will walk round with you, and see what 
 it is like." 
 
 Bert knew that Mrs. Shelby had a room 
 which she was anxious to let, and he readily 
 agreed to introduce the stranger. 
 
 " I am staying at a hotel just now," ex 
 plained his companion, " but I prefer a board- 
 ing-house as more home-like. Are you a 
 stranger in the city? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Where from?" 
 
 " From New York." 
 
 " I am from San Francisco. I have only 
 been here a week." 
 
 They conversed upon indifferent topics till 
 they reached Mrs. Shelby's.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 255 
 
 u I will go up and take a look at your room 
 first, if you don't mind. That will give me an 
 idea of the accommodations." 
 
 " Very well, sir." 
 
 Bert led Uie way to his own room, and both 
 entered. 
 
 " Very neat, on my word ! " said the 
 stranger. " Now I will allude to the little 
 matter of business and then you can intro- 
 duce me to your landlady." 
 
 " Just as you please, sir." 
 
 " It is briefly this: Do you see this watch? " 
 
 He took out a showy gold watch, and held 
 it up before Bert. 
 
 " I find myself unexpectedly short of funds, 
 owing to the failure of a remittance to come 
 to band, and I am going to offer you this 
 watch at a bargain. You have none, I see." 
 
 " No, and I have no money to spare to buy 
 one/' 
 
 " Wait till I offer you an inducement. This 
 watch cost me a hundred dollars. I have had 
 it only six months. I offer it to you for 
 twenty-five." 
 
 " I presume that is a good offer; but I have 
 no money of my own that I can use for the 
 purpose of buying a watch." 
 
 " My young friend, it will pay you to bor-
 
 256 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 row, for you can double your money on the 
 watch. Any one will give you fifty for it." 
 
 " Then why do you offer it to me for twenty- 
 five?" asked Bert shrewdly. 
 
 " Because I can't wait to hunt up a custo- 
 mer." 
 
 " I cannot buy it." 
 
 " Then I will make you another offer. Lend 
 me ten dollars on it, and I will redeem it in 
 three days, and give you five dollars for the 
 accommodation." 
 
 Bert hesitated. It seemed an easy way of 
 earning five dollars. 
 
 " If I don't redeem it, you have the watch 
 itself for security for a ridiculously small 
 sum. Of course I shan't give you the chance, 
 if I can help it. I expect funds from San 
 Francisco to-morrow." 
 
 " I think I shall have to decline,'' Bert said, 
 after a pause; "but your offer seems a good 
 one, and I have no doubt you will easily get 
 accommodated elsewhere." 
 
 Bert was not prepared for the next move- 
 ment. 
 
 The stranger rose from his seat, drew a 
 sponge from his pocket, and quickly applied it 
 to Bert's nostrils. He felt his head swimming 
 and consciousness departing.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 257 
 
 " Aha," thought the stranger. " My pru- 
 dent young friend will advance money this 
 time without security." 
 
 He hastily thrust his hand into Bert's 
 pocket, drew out his pocket-book, and, without 
 stopping to open it or examine its contents, 
 sprang to the door, with the intention of mak- 
 ing his escape. 
 
 But another boarder chanced to be parsing 
 through the entry at the moment. A quick 
 glance revealed to him Bert unconscious on a 
 chair, and the pocket-book in the hand of the 
 man who was leaving the room. He took in 
 the situation at once. 
 
 " Give me that pocket-book," he said sternly. 
 The other looked undecided. 
 
 " Give it to me, or I will hold you and sum- 
 mon help. If you surrender it, I will let you 
 go sx^ot free." 
 
 The thief muttered an execration, but did 
 not dare to refuse. 
 
 The boarder entered the room and set him- 
 self to reviving Bert. 
 
 " Where am I? " asked Bert, languidly. 
 
 " You are all right now," was the reply.
 
 258 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Bert looked up in the face of his visitor, and 
 etarted in great excitement. 
 
 " Tell me, quick," he said, " are you not 
 Ralph Harding?" 
 
 " Yes, answered the other in great surprise. 
 " Who are you that recognizes me? " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 RALPH HARDING IS FOUND. 
 
 BERT was still partly under the influence of 
 chloroform; but the sight of Ralph Harding, 
 .whom he recognized from the photograph 
 which had been given him, roused him from 
 h'*s stupefaction. 
 
 Harding repeated his question. 
 
 "Who are you?" he asked, "and how do 
 you know me?" 
 
 " I am Bert Barton." 
 
 "What? not the son of John Barton?" ex- 
 claimed Harding, drawing back with a trou- 
 bled look. 
 
 " Yes," answered Bert, gravely ; " I am the
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 259 
 
 son of John Barton, and I have been in search 
 of you for several weeks." 
 
 " You have been in search of me? Why did 
 you want to see me? " 
 
 " I want you to clear my father of the false 
 charge which was brought against him ten 
 years ago," answered Bert, firmly. 
 
 " I don't understand what you mean," stam- 
 mered Harding, who had sunk back into a 
 chair and was eyeing Bert with a troubled 
 look. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you do, Mr. Harding. It was 
 you who gave the information that one of 
 the stolen bonds was in my father's overcoat 
 pocket." 
 
 "It was true," said Harding doggedly. 
 
 u Where were the rest? " asked Bert, point- 
 edly. 
 
 " How should I know? Tour father had 
 them secreted somewhere, I suppose." 
 
 " You know better than that My father 
 was innocent. He knew nothing of the bonds. 
 An enemy plotted to get him into trouble." 
 
 " Do you charge me with being that 
 enemy? " demanded Harding.
 
 260 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " You had something to do with it, but you 
 were the instrument of another." 
 
 " How do you know that? " admitted Hard- 
 ing, incautiously. 
 
 " Shall I tell you the name of that other? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " It is Albert Marlowe." 
 
 Ralph Harding started in surprise. 
 
 " Does he admit it? " he asked, after a 
 pause. 
 
 " No; he does not know that it is suspected. 
 I want you to back me up in the demand that 
 he clear my father from suspicion." 
 
 " He will never do it. How could he, with- 
 out criminating himself? " 
 
 " Whatever be the result, my father's char- 
 acter must be cleared." 
 
 " Tell me, is your father still living? " asked 
 Ralph Harding, earnestly. 
 
 " Yes, he is." 
 
 " Have you seen him? " 
 
 " Yes. Poor father, he has suffered much. 
 He has been separated from my mother and 
 myself these many years, and has not dared 
 to show himself at his old home, or among
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 261 
 
 his old friends, because he was liable to be ar- 
 rested on the old charge." 
 
 Ralph was looking down upon the floor, and 
 his features were working convulsively. Bert 
 guessed what was passing through, his mind, 
 and paused to give him time. 
 
 He looked up after a while, and asked: 
 " What would you have me do? " 
 
 " Testify to what you know. It will clear 
 my father, and he can come home once more." 
 
 " But it will condemn Albert Marlowe." 
 
 " Why not let it? He is the guilty man. 
 Have you so much reason to like Albert Mar- 
 lowe that you will not do this act of justice? " 
 
 "No!" Ralph Harding burst out, and his 
 face wore an expression of resentment. " He 
 has used me like a dog. It was through me 
 that he became a rich man, and in return he 
 has treated me with contempt and indiffer- 
 ence. If I dared " 
 
 " You would expose him? " 
 
 " Yes, I would. It is of no use to deny what 
 you have said. Your father is an innocent 
 man. The bonds were stolen by Albert Mar- 
 lowe."
 
 262 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Bert looked triumphant. He had wrung 
 the truth from the accomplice of Squire Mar- 
 lowe. 
 
 " How did you find me? " asked Harding, 
 abruptly. " How did you know I was in 
 Chicago?" 
 
 " I was told so by your sister." 
 
 " Have you been in Peoria, then? " asked 
 Harding, in great surprise. 
 
 " Yes ; I was there last week." 
 
 " But how did you find out that I had a 
 sister? " 
 
 " At Harrisburg. You left a letter from 
 your sister at your boarding-house there, 
 which gave me the clew I wanted." 
 
 " And "how did you trace me to Harris- 
 burg? " 
 
 Bert explained. 
 
 " And you defrayed your own expenses? I 
 thought you and your mother were left in 
 poverty." 
 
 " So we were; but an uncle of my mother's 
 recently returned from California, and it is 
 he who has supplied me with the funds needed 
 for my journey."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 263 
 
 " Then he is wealthy? " 
 
 " I don't think so. He is employed in New 
 York on a small salary, but he is liberal with 
 the little he has. He has set his heart on 
 clea-ing my father's reputation. It is he who 
 sent me on my present mission." 
 
 " Does your father think that Albert Mar- 
 lowe is the real thief? " 
 
 " He does. In fact, he is firmly convinced 
 of it. Now, Mr. Harding, I have told you why 
 I wanted to find you. You have as much as 
 told me I am right in my suspicion. You are 
 partly responsible for my poor father's unde- 
 served sufferings. But for you "he would 
 never have been charged with the crime. Is 
 it not so? " 
 
 " I admit ft," Ralph Harding answered, 
 slowly. 
 
 "Will you tell me who put the bond into 
 my father's pocket? " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " And who prompted you to do it? " 
 
 " It was the man you suspected Albert 
 Marlowe."
 
 264 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " It was the proceeds of his theft that en- 
 abled him to start in business, was it not? " 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 " I have one more question to ask. Will 
 you accompany me to New York and testify 
 to this, if needful? " 
 
 " But what will happen to me? " asked 
 Harding, troubled. 
 
 " My uncle bade me promise you that we 
 will do our utmost to prevent your coming 
 to harm. As to Albert Marlowe, we shall de- 
 mand a confession from him, or we shall have 
 him arrested, and the whole matter investi- 
 gated.'' 
 
 Kalph Harding paused for a brief space, 
 and then said : " What are your plans if I 
 agree to help you? " 
 
 " To start for New York to-night," answered 
 Bert, promptly. " In New York I will take 
 you to Uncle Jacob's office, and we will de- 
 cide what to do next." 
 
 Harding hesitated a moment, then said : " I 
 believe you will keep your promise, and I 
 will put myself in your hands. I always liked 
 your father better than Albert Marlowe, who
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 265 
 
 is a very selfish man, and he has not kept his 
 promise to me. I have reproached myself 
 more than once for consenting to help Marlowe 
 in his plot. It has never been out of my mind. 
 I have been restless, unable to settle down any- 
 where, and have suffered punishment myself, 
 though not as severe as has fallen upon your 
 father. When I have made reparation, as I 
 now have a chance to do, I shall be more con- 
 tented in mind." 
 
 " Can you be ready to take the evening train 
 with me?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Where are you living? " 
 
 " In this house." 
 
 " Then we can remain together. I have not 
 thanked you yet for coming to my help, and 
 saving my money." 
 
 " I am glad to have helped the son. It will 
 help offset the injury I have done the father." 
 
 Bert, accompanied by Ralph Harding, took 
 the evening train for New York. Their arrival 
 was timely, for reasons which will be shown 
 in a later chapter.
 
 266 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 ALBERT MARLOWE MEETS HIS VICTIM. 
 
 LIKE most wrong-doers, Albert Marlowe 
 had never ceased to entertain an apprehension 
 that his connections with the bond theft would 
 some time be made public. Yet, as the years 
 rolled by, and he became rich and prosperous, 
 his fears abated somewhat, and he felt no 
 qualms of conscience, though he knew that an 
 innocent man was suffering exile for his sake. 
 When he thought of John Barton it was with 
 dislike. For nothing is truer than the saying 
 that we dislike those whom we have injured. 
 He did not know whether Barton was alive 
 or dead, but hoped that he was dead, as this 
 would make him absolutely safe. 
 
 When he learned from Percy that Mrs. Bar- 
 ton had a male boarder, his fears instantly 
 suggested that it might be John Barton. The 
 description given by Percy tallied with his
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 267 
 
 recollections of the victim of bis wicked plot. 
 His fears and suspicions were instantly 
 aroused. Why was John Barton here? He 
 was under the ban of the law, liable to be re- 
 arrested, yet he ran that risk. What object 
 had he in view? That he sought the care of 
 his wife because he was ill did not seem a suf- 
 ficient motive. Evidently it behooved him to 
 find out, first, whether Mrs. Barton's boarder 
 was really her husband ; and, secondly, if such 
 should be the case, to warn him to leave Lake- 
 ville. It gave the squire an uncomfortable 
 feeling to have his victim so near at hand. 
 
 First, to find out who the boarder was. Al- 
 bert Marlowe got into the habit of walking 
 two or three times a day past the cottage of 
 Mrs. Barton, in the hope of seeing the mys- 
 terious stranger. He did this for several 
 days, but did not succeed in his object. The 
 reason was that Mr. Barton was confined by 
 weakness first to the bed, and then to the 
 lounge in the little sitting-room. 
 
 But on the fifth day Squire Marlowe was in 
 luck. The mysterious boarder was walking 
 to and fro in the front yard attached to the
 
 268 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 cottage. When he saw Albert Marlowe be 
 turned away, and was about to re-enter the 
 house. The squire did not need this cor- 
 roboration of his suspicion, for he had al- 
 ready recognized Barton, though the two had 
 not met for ten years. 
 
 He set his face firmly; his expression be- 
 came hard and dogged. 
 
 " That man must leave Lakeville ! " he said 
 to himself. 
 
 Without hesitation he opened the gate and 
 entered the yard. 
 
 Meanwhile John Barton, seeing that he was 
 recognized, came to a halt, and, turning 
 around, faced the man who had been his bitter 
 enemy. He showed no signs of fear, for what 
 had happened was only what he had antici- 
 pated. 
 
 Squire Marlowe came up and stood at his 
 side. 
 
 " You are John Barton," he said. " Do not 
 attempt to deny it!" 
 
 " I do not propose to deny it to you Albert 
 Marlowe," answered Barton, calmly. 
 
 " You are here under an assumed name.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 269 
 
 I was told that Mrs. Barton's boarder was 
 named Robinson." 
 
 " I am passing under that name. You know- 
 why." 
 
 " Yes, I do know why. You are under the 
 ban of the law. You are afraid of being ar- 
 rested and brought to trial a second time." 
 
 " I know there is danger of it, and of course 
 I shrink from it." 
 
 " Then why do you come here? Are you 
 mad?" 
 
 "After ten years I wished to see my wife 
 once more. I am a sick man. I came to her 
 to be nursed back to health." 
 
 " Take care, or when you leave here it will 
 be for a less desirable boarding-place ! " said 
 the squire, in a menacing tone. 
 
 "You mean the prison?" 
 
 "Yes; that is what I mean." 
 
 " No one in Lakeville knows who I am. 
 Why should I fear? " 
 
 " I know." 
 
 " Surely you would not betray me you, 
 the man who worked for years at my side? " 
 
 " I cannot compromise with crime. It is
 
 270 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 my duty as a good, law-abiding citizen, to de- 
 nounce you to the authorities." 
 
 " You a good, law-abiding citizen ! " re- 
 peated John Barton, with scornful emphasis. 
 
 Squire Marlowe started back in astonish- 
 ment. The worm had turned 
 
 " Do you mean to question it? " he de- 
 manded, sharply. 
 
 " Yes, I do." 
 
 " On what grounds? " 
 
 " Albert Marlowe," said John Barton, 
 sternly, " one of us two is a thief, but I am 
 not the one." 
 
 " Do you mean to insult me? " exclaimed 
 the squire, white with anger, not unmingled 
 with uneasy fear. 
 
 " Come in ! I have something to say to you. 
 It is better said in-doors, where no passer-by 
 can hear it." 
 
 Mechanically Squire Marlowe followed 
 John Barton into the little sitting-room. Mrs. 
 Barton looked up from her rocking-chair in 
 surprise and apprehension, and half rose. 
 
 " Stay where you are, Mary," said her hus- 
 band. " I wish you to hear what I am about 
 to say to Albert Marlowe."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 MR. BARTON DEFIES THE SQUIRE. 
 
 SQUIRE MARLOWE sat down, while John 
 Barton, instead of quailing in his presence, 
 eyed him with cool indifference. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this tomfoolery? " 
 asked Albert Marlowe, uneasily. 
 
 " You may call it what you like, but the 
 time has come for an explanation. Albert 
 Marlowe, you have done me a cruel wrong. 
 It is through you that I have had my name 
 blackened and have been forced to fly from 
 my country." 
 
 " So you went to Canada, did you? " sneered 
 the squire. " It's a popular resort for gentle- 
 men of your class." 
 
 " Your words do not trouble me, for I never 
 committed the crime with which I was 
 charged." 
 
 " Of course not. It is wonderful how in-
 
 272 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 nocent you all are. But you say that I am 
 responsible for the consequences of your 
 crima What do you mean by that? " 
 
 " I mean," answered Barton, with a pene- 
 trating glance, " that the bonds were stolen 
 by you, and that you schemed to throw the 
 blame upon me. Is this plain?" 
 
 "Are you mad?" said the squire, angrily. 
 " do you expect the world to believe this, or 
 are you in a conspiracy to blackmail me? " 
 
 " The last question you can ask when I de- 
 mand money from you as the price of my si- 
 lence." 
 
 " Take care, John Barton ! Your silly tale 
 is the last desperate expedient of a criminal. 
 You ought to see the folly of attacking a man 
 in my position. For years I have been the 
 most prominent man in Lakeville, owner of 
 the large shoe factory that gives employment 
 to fifty hands. It is no idle boast and your 
 wife will confirm my words that I am the 
 most influential and respected citizen of this 
 town." 
 
 " And on what are your position and pros- 
 perity based, Albert Marlowe? Where did you
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 273 
 
 obtain the capital that enabled you to start 
 in business? " 
 
 Squire Marlowe looked confused for a mo- 
 ment, but his audacity did not desert him. 
 
 " I started," he answered, " on borrowed 
 money." 
 
 "Of whom did you borrow? " 
 
 " That is my affair," returned Marlowe, dog- 
 gedly. 
 
 " You would find it hard to answer. Let 
 me answer for you." 
 
 The squire did not speak, but waited, not 
 without uneasiness, for Barton to answer his 
 own question. He didn't have long to wait. 
 
 " You started your factory on the money 
 realized from the stolen bonds." 
 
 " You will have to prove this," said Mar- 
 lowe, furiously. 
 
 " Do you w'sh me to do so? " asked John 
 Barton, significantly. 
 
 " This is all a scheme to clear yourself from 
 the charge," exclaimed the squire. " Don't 
 think I am so dull that I don't see through it. 
 How happens it that you have waited ten years 
 before it occurred to you to implicate me? "
 
 274 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " It did not immediately occur to me ; but 
 when you started in business on a large scale, 
 though you were no better off than myself at 
 the time of the theft, it set me to thinking." 
 
 " I have already told you that I used bor- 
 rowed money." 
 
 " You won't tell me where you borrowed it." 
 
 " Because it is my private business. John 
 Barton, I warn you that you are making a 
 powerful enemy. If you keep quiet and let me 
 alone, I will not call attention to your presence 
 in Lakeville, and for safety's sake I will not 
 appear to know anything about you. Do you 
 make that promise? " 
 
 " Albert Marlowe, I am an innocent man, 
 but I am under a ban. I want to prove my 
 innocence, and regain the right to live with my 
 family, and hold up my head before my fellow- 
 men. If, in doing this, attention should be 
 drawn to you as the real criminal I cannot 
 help it." 
 
 " So you defy me, do you?" demanded the 
 squire. \ 
 
 " If what I have said is a defiance, then I 
 defy you," answered John Barton, calmly.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 275 
 
 Squire Marlowe rose from his seat, his face 
 flushed with anger. 
 
 " Be it so," he said. " You will hear from 
 me again." 
 
 " Oh, John," exclaimed Mrs. Barton as the 
 squire left the room, " I am afraid Albert will 
 do you some harm." 
 
 " Then, Mary, to relieve you, let me say that 
 I have heard through Uncle Jacob that Bert 
 has found the missing witness, Ralph Harding, 
 and that both are probably in New York at 
 this moment." 
 
 On his return Squire Marlowe telegraphed 
 from a neighboring town as follows : 
 " To Robert Manning, No. 71 1-2 Fulton St., 
 Brooklyn : 
 
 " John Barton, who ten years since stole 
 your bonds, and escaped trial, is at Lakeville, 
 at his wife's house. 
 
 " ALBERT MARLOWE." 
 
 The last act in the drama was about to be 
 played, and Squire Marlowe went about with 
 a gleam in his eye as he anticipated the final 
 downfall of the man who had dared to defy 
 him.
 
 276 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 BERT arrived in New York in due time, ac- 
 companied by Ralph Harding. They received 
 a cordial welcome from Uncle Jacob. 
 
 " You shall not regret your testimony in be- 
 half of John Barton," he said to Harding. " I 
 will see that you are protected." 
 
 " Uncle Jacob," said Bert, " I have twenty 
 dollars left of the amount you gave me for ex- 
 penses. Here it is." 
 
 " Keep it, Bert You will need it." 
 
 " But, Uncle Jacob, I have already put you 
 to too great expense. If you were a ridi 
 man " 
 
 Jacob Marlowe smiled. 
 
 " I can spare the money," he said. " Don't 
 trouble yourself on that score. You have done 
 yourself great credit, Bert, and shown great 
 shrewdness in your expedition in search of Mr,
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 277 
 
 Harding. I am not sure that you would not 
 make a good detective." 
 
 " I have no ambition in that direction, Uncle 
 Jacob. I hope to get a little better education, 
 and then to devote myself to business." 
 
 " I think you will have an opportunity to do 
 both, Bert." 
 
 " Do you think you can get me a place of 
 some kind in New York? I know, of course, 
 that I must work before I can afford to study." 
 
 " We will speak of that later. Now I have 
 to propose that we all go down to Lakeville to 
 meet your father and mother, and incidentally 
 to have an interview with Albert Marlowe." 
 
 " Do you wish me to go, too? " asked Ralph 
 Harding. 
 
 " By all means ! You are the most import- 
 ant member of the party." 
 
 Toward noon of the next day the three 
 reached Lakeville. Uncle Jacob and Ralph 
 Harding secured rooms at the hotel, and then 
 repaired to the little cottage. 
 
 We will precede them. 
 
 It was in the spirit of revenge that the 
 squire had telegraphed to Brooklyn, and after
 
 278 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 he had done so he half regretted it. If John 
 Barton were re-arrested, he would undoubtedly 
 try to incriminate the squire himself, and the 
 mere accusation would do him harm. It 
 would be best if Barton could be frightened 
 into making his escape, and this very act 
 would seem like a confession of guilt. 
 
 " Yes, that will be best," thought the squire. 
 " Barton will never dare to come back, and we 
 shall be spared the scandal of a trial." 
 
 He took his hat and cane, and set out for 
 the Barton cottage. 
 
 Mrs. Barton opened the door. 
 
 " Is your husband in? " asked the squire, 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I would like to see him on very important 
 business." 
 
 " I will see you/' said John Barton, who had 
 overheard the squire's words. 
 
 "Well?" he said, as Marlowe entered the 
 sitting-room. 
 
 " I have come to urge yon to leave Lake- 
 ville," began the squire, abruptly. " There is 
 no time to be lost." 
 
 " Why should I leave Lakeville? "
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 279 
 
 " You don't want to be arrested, I take it? " 
 
 " Is there any danger of it? " 
 
 " Yes; I telegraphed yesterday to Robert 
 Manning that you were here. Officers of the 
 law may arrive at any time." 
 
 " Why did you betray me? " asked Barton, 
 quietly. 
 
 " Because I thought it my duty. I had no 
 right to shield a criminal." 
 
 " Then why have you put me on my guard? " 
 
 " For your wife's sake." 
 
 " I am surprised at your consideration. You 
 showed very little when you discharged my 
 boy from your factory." 
 
 " That was a matter of business. But there 
 is no time to waste in discussion. I advise you 
 to go to the station at once. A train will leave 
 for New York in half an hour, and you may be 
 able to escape before the arrival of the offi- 
 ' cers." 
 
 " But I don't want to escape." 
 
 "Are you mad?" demanded the squire, im- 
 patiently. " Do you want to spend a term of 
 years in prison?" 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! "
 
 280 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " Then profit by my warning, and escape 
 while there is time." 
 
 " No. If I am arrested I will stand trial." 
 " Have you taken leave of your senses? " 
 " No ; I wish to prove my innocence." 
 " What chance have you of that? " 
 
 " The testimony of Ralph Harding " 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Squire Marlowe, rising 
 in great agitation. " Where is Ralph Hard- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Here ! " was the unexpected reply, and 
 Uncle Jacob entered the room, accompanied 
 by Bert and Mr. Harding. 
 
 Albert Marlowe turned his gaze from one to 
 another in ill-concealed dismay. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, 
 hoarsely. " Have you been hatching up a plot 
 against me? " 
 
 " No," answered Uncle Jacob with dignity. 
 " It is our object to relieve John Barton from 
 the stigma upon his fair name. In doing so it 
 may be necessary to fasten the crime upon the 
 guilty party. Who that is, you know as well 
 as I do." 
 
 " No one will credit the testimony of that
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 281 
 
 man ! " said the squire, pointing scornfully at 
 Ralph Harding. 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that ! His story is 
 plain and straightforward, and I think it will 
 impress the court that way." 
 
 " Albert ha? been urging me to escape," said 
 John Barton- " He has set the officers on my 
 track." 
 
 " Has he done this? " asked Uncle Jacob, 
 sharply. 
 
 " So he says." 
 
 At this moment a knock was heard at the 
 door, and there was a new and unexpected ar- 
 rival, which produced a sensation. 
 
 It was Robert Manning, of Brooklyn. 
 
 " You telegraphed to me, Mr. Marlowe," he 
 said. " This man, I believe, is John Barton." 
 
 " You are right, sir," responded Barton, 
 calmly. 
 
 " I might have brought with me an officer 
 'and an order of arrest, but I have chosen in- 
 stead to offer to drop all action against you 
 if you will restore the bonds or their equival- 
 ent. I have no wish to be revenged, but I want 
 reparation."
 
 *&2 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " As I never took your bonds, I am not the 
 person to apply to," replied Barton. 
 
 " Then perhaps you will have the kindness 
 to tell me who did take the bonds," said Man- 
 ning, incredulously. 
 
 " I will do that," responded Ralph Harding, 
 coming forward. " There he stands ! " 
 
 " It is a lie!" interposed the squire, hoarsely. 
 
 " It is true. You hired me to put a five-hun- 
 dred dollar bond into John Barton's pocket 
 while you appropriated the remainder. It was 
 this that enabled you to go into business for 
 yourself in Lakeville. It was in this way that 
 you got together your wealth." 
 
 Albert Marlowe was overwhelmed, and did 
 not immediately reply. 
 
 " I think I remember you," said Robert 
 Manning. " It was your testimony that 
 weighed so heavily against Mr. Barton." 
 
 " And it has weighed heavily upon my con- 
 science ever since. I have at last determined 
 to tell the truth." 
 
 " What have you to say to this, Mr. Mar- 
 lowe? " asked Manning pointedly. 
 
 " It is a lie," answered the squire, feebly.
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 283 
 
 " You are willing to have the matter go to 
 trial?" 
 
 " Albert," put in Uncle Jacob, " it appears 
 to me that you are in a bad box. Kalph Hard- 
 ing's testimony is sure to convict you. Will 
 you take my advice? " 
 
 " What is it? " asked the squire, sullenly. 
 
 " Accept the offer made to John Barton un- 
 der a misapprehension. Repay to Mr. Man- 
 ning the value of the stolen bonds " 
 
 " With interest attached," interposed Man- 
 ning. 
 
 " And he will drop the matter. Am I right, 
 Mr. Manning? " 
 
 Yes, sir." 
 
 " It will amount to about double the origi- 
 nal sum say twelve thousand dollars." 
 
 " I can't raise so large an amount in cash." 
 
 " You are worth more? " 
 v " Yes; but not in ready money." 
 
 " I will advance it to you, and take a bill of 
 sale of the factory and your house," said Uncle 
 Jacob. 
 
 All eyes were turned upon the old man in 
 amazement.
 
 284 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 " But where will you get the money? " 
 gasped the squire. 
 
 " I can raise ten times that sum, if neces- 
 sary." 
 
 " But I thought you were a poor man? " 
 
 " I never told you so. I said I had five hun- 
 dred dollars; but I didn't add that I am worth 
 at least two hundred thousand dollars more. 
 That was my secret ! " 
 
 " You said that you invested all your money 
 in some mining shares that depreciated to 
 nothing." 
 
 " I foresaw the decline, and sold out at a 
 small loss." 
 
 " Why did you deceive us? " asked the 
 squire, irritably." 
 
 " I wanted to test you all. When you 
 thought me poor, you gave me my walking 
 ticket; but Mary here," and Uncle Jacob 
 glanced affectionately at Mrs. Barton, " gave 
 me a warm welcome, though she thought me 
 nearly as poor as herself. I shall not forget 
 it. Bert also did not look down upon his old 
 uncle, even though he had little to expect from 
 him."
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 285 
 
 "But, Uncle Jacob," said Bert, "why, if 
 you are so rich, do you work for twelve dollars 
 a week?" 
 
 " It was a harmless deception, Bert," he re- 
 plied. " I am at the head of the office where 
 you think me employed, and president of one 
 of the richest mines on the Pacific Coast." 
 
 " Mr. Marlowe," said the squire, not ventur- 
 ing upon the familiar name of Uncle Jacob, 
 " instead of advancing money on my house, 
 factory, and stock, are you willing to buy them 
 outright? " 
 
 " At what sum do you value them? " 
 
 " Fifteen thousand dollars." 
 
 " It is a bargain," said Uncle Jacob 
 promptly. 
 
 " You may feel disposed to run the business 
 yourself." 
 
 N " It is out of my line. I shall make a free 
 gift of the whole to John Barton, who, I sup- 
 pose, is quite capable of taking your place." 
 
 " How can I thank you?" said Mr. Barton, 
 much moved. 
 
 " By making Mary happy. Now, Mr. Man- 
 ning, if you and Albert Marlowe will call to-
 
 286 Five Hundred Dollars. 
 
 morrow at my office in New York we will com- 
 plete the business. John, I shall not need 
 you ; but Bert will go with me and bring you 
 back the deeds of the property I propose to 
 transfer to you." 
 
 That evening was a happy one in the Bar- 
 ton cottage, but there was vain regret and dis- 
 satisfaction at the home of Albert Marlowe. 
 Too late they all regretted that they had re- 
 ceived Uncle Jacob so coldly, and so forfeited, 
 in all probability, their chances of sharing his 
 wealth. Percy's great regret was that that 
 Barton boy should be lifted above him. 
 
 A month later, and the changes had taken 
 place. The Bartons moved to Squire Mar- 
 lowe's handsome house, and John Barton was 
 installed as owner and head of the shoe fac- 
 tory. Bert was placed at an academy, where 
 he will remain till he has acquired a good edu- 
 cation, and then will enter Uncle Jacob's of- 
 fice in the city. He bids fair to redeem the 
 promise of his boyhood, and become an up- 
 right and manly man. Ralph Harding has 
 been made superintendent of the factory, and 
 enjoys the confidence of John Barton, who is
 
 Five Hundred Dollars. 287 
 
 happy in the society of his wife, of which he 
 was deprived for so many years. 
 
 Albert Marlowe, with the remainder of his 
 money, went to Illinois, and has* established a 
 small shoe factory out there. He is a discon- 
 tented and unhappy man, and his wife is peev- 
 ish and discontented also. They can no longer 
 afford the expensive establishment they main- 
 tained in Lakeville. Percy has not lost all 
 hopes of being remembered in the will of his 
 wealthy relative, but whether he will or not 
 is Jacob Marlowe's Secret. 
 
 THE BND.
 
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