The Tin Box, and What it Contained

It was not a time that Mrs. Ross, in her present luxury, liked to thinkabout, and for years she had not communicated with the uncle to whom sheowed so much.

Full of charity himself, he was unconscious of her lack of gratitude, and supposed that her failure to write was owing to lack of time. He hadcome in good faith, when bereft of his daughter, to renew acquaintancewith his niece, never dreaming how unwelcome he would be. Philip'srudeness impressed him unpleasantly, but, then, the boy had never seenhim before, and that was some excuse.

CHAPTER VII

AN UNWELCOME GUEST

"I don't believe that old tramp's my great-uncle," said Philip Ross tohimself, but he felt uneasy, nevertheless.

It hurt his pride to think that he should have such a shabby relation, and he resolved to ascertain by inquiry from his mother whether therewere any grounds for the old man's claim.

He came into the house just after Uncle Obed had been shown upstairs bythe servant, not to the spare room, but to a small, inconvenient bedroomon the third floor, next to the one occupied by the two servants.

"Mother," asked Philip, "is it really true?"

"Is what really true?"

"That that shabby old man is any relation of ours?"

"I don't know with certainty," answered his mother. "He says he is, but

I shouldn't have known him."

"Did you have any uncle in Illinois?"

"Yes, I believe so," Mrs. Ross admitted, reluctantly.

"You always said you were of a high family," said Philip, reproachfully.

Mrs. Ross blushed, for she did not like to admit that her pretensions toboth were baseless. She was not willing to admit it now, even toPhilip.

"It is true," she replied, in some embarrassment; "but there's always ablack sheep in every flock."

Poor Obed! To be called a black sheep – a hard-working, steady-going manas he had been all his life.

"But my mother's brother, Obed, strange to say, was always rustic anduncouth, and so he was sent out to Illinois to be a farmer. We thoughtthat the best place for him – that he would live and die there; but now, in the most vexatious manner in the world, he turns up here."

"He isn't going to stay here, is he?" asked Philip, in dismay.

"No; we must get rid of him some way. I must say it was a very coolproceeding to come here without an invitation, expecting us to supporthim."

This was a gratuitous assumption on the part of Mrs. Ross.

"I suppose he's very poor. He doesn't look as if he had a cent. Ipresume he is destitute, and expects us to take care of him."

"You'd better send him packing, mother."

"I suppose we shall have to do something for him," said Mrs. Ross, in atone of disgust. "I shall advise your father to buy a ticket for him, and send him back to Illinois."

"That'll be the best way, mother. Start him off to-morrow, if you can."

"I won't keep him long, you may be sure of that."

By this time Colonel Ross had reached home, and his wife communicated tohim the unwelcome intelligence of Uncle Obed's arrival, and advised himas to the course she thought best to pursue.

"Poor old man!" said the colonel, with more consideration than his wifeor son possessed. "I suppose he felt solitary out there."

"That isn't our lookout," said Mrs. Ross, impatiently. "It's rightenough to say poor old man. He looks as poor as poverty. He'll be betteroff in Illinois."

"Perhaps you are right, but I wouldn't like to send him offempty-handed. I'll buy his ticket, and give him fifty dollars, so thathe need not suffer."

"It seems to me that is too much. Twenty dollars, or ten, would beliberal."

The cold-hearted woman seemed to forget the years during which her unclehad virtually supported her.

"No, Lucinda; I shall give him fifty."

"You should think of your son, Colonel Ross," said his wife. "Don'timpoverish him by your foolish generosity."

Colonel Ross shrugged his shoulders.

"Philip will have all the money that will be good for him," he said.

"Very well; as you please. Only get him off as soon as you can. It ismortifying to me to have such a looking old man here claimingrelationship to me."

"He is your uncle, Lucinda, and you must mention the plan to him."

"Very well."

It was a task which Mrs. Ross did not shrink from, for she had no fearof hurting the feelings of Uncle Obed, or, rather, she did not carewhether he chose to feel hurt or not.

Uncle Obed was called down to supper, and took his seat at the handsometea table, with its silver service. Colonel Ross, to his credit be itsaid, received his wife's uncle much more cordially than his own niecehad done, and caused Uncle Obed's face to beam with pleasure.

"Railly, Lucinda," said Uncle Obed, as he looked over the table, "youhave a very comfortable home, I declare."

"Yes, we try to have things comfortable around us," answered Mrs. Ross, coldly.

"Years ago, when you and your mother lived out in Illinoy, I didn'tthink you'd come to live in a house like this."

"Yes, people live in an outlandish way out there," said Mrs. Ross.

"But they have happy homes. When Mary lived, I enjoyed life, though theold farmhouse seemed rough and plain, compared with your handsome home. I'm glad to see my sister's child living so well, with all the comfortsthat money can buy."

The old man's tone was hearty, and there was a smile of genuine pleasureon his rugged face. He was forced to admit that his niece was not ascordial as he hoped, but, then, "Lucinda was always reserved andquiet-like," he said to himself, and so excused her.

It must be said for Colonel Ross that he knew comparatively little abouthis wife's early life, and didn't dream of the large obligations she wasunder to Uncle Obed. He was a rich man, and the consciousness of wealthled him to assume airs of importance, but he was not as cold orheartless as his wife, and would have insisted on his wife's treatingher uncle better had he known the past. Even as it was, he was much moregracious and affable than Mrs. Ross to the old man, whom he had neverseen before.

As for Philip, he was a second edition of his mother, and neveraddressed a word to Uncle Obed. When the latter spoke to him, heanswered in monosyllables.