The Tin Box, and What it Contained

"Where do you live?"

It so happened that Harry's house could be pointed out across thefields, though at least a quarter of a mile away.

"There it is," he said, pointing it out; "but, perhaps, you cannot seeso far?"

"Oh, yes, I can see it."

By this time they had reached the gate of Colonel Ross, and Harry feltthat he might safely leave the old man.

Out on the lawn was Philip Ross, who, with surprise and displeasure, sawHarry opening the gate for one whom he mentally designated as an oldtramp.

"What do you want here?" he asked, in a tone far from courteous orrespectful.

"What is your name?" asked the old man, fixing his glance on thequestioner.

"My name is Philip Ross, and I am the son of Colonel Ross," answered

Philip, with an air of consequence.

"Then I am your great-uncle, Philip," said the old man, surveying hisyoung kinsman with an interest inspired by the feeling of relationship.

"My great-uncle," repeated Philip, in mingled bewilderment and dismay.

"Yes, Philip, I'm your mother's uncle, come all the way from Illinoy tovisit you."

Harry was amused to see upon the face of his young antagonist a look ofstupefaction.

It was a severe blow to Philip, especially in Harry's presence, to beclaimed as a kinsman by a shabby, old tramp. It was upon his tongue toexpress a doubt as to the relationship, but he forbore.

"Is your mother at home?" asked the old man.

"You can ring the bell and see," answered Philip, deliberately turninghis back and walking off.

The old man looked after him, with a shrewd glance of intelligence, butexpressed no opinion of him.

"Harry," he said, turning to his young guide, "will you come with me tothe door and ring the bell?"

Harry complied with his request.

The door was opened by a servant, who, on seeing the old man, said, pertly:

"We've got nothing for the likes of you," and was about to close thedoor on the two.

"Stop!" said Harry, in a commanding voice, for he was provoked with thegirl's ill manners. "Tell Mrs. Ross that her uncle is here. I thinkyou'd better invite him in."

"Well, I never!" said the girl, abashed. "I hope you'll excuse me, sir.

Walk into the parlor, and I'll tell Mrs. Ross you are here."

"Won't you come in, Harry?" asked the old man, who seemed to have takena liking to his young guide.

"No, thank you, sir. I shall see you again, if you are going to stay inthe village."

"Thank you! you're a good boy," and the old man began to fumble in hispocket.

"Oh, no. I can't take anything," said Harry hurriedly.

Even if the old man had been rich, he would have declinedcompensation – much more when he looked very poor.

"Well, well! I'm much obliged to you, all the same."

Leaving Harry to find his way home, let us see what sort of receptionthe old man had from his niece.

Within five minutes Mrs. Ross sailed into the room.

"Why, Lucinda!" said the old man, heartily; "it's a long time since Imet you."

"I do not remember ever having seen you," said Mrs. Ross, frigidly.

"I haven't seen you since you were a little girl, for I've been livingaway out in Illinoy. I'm your Uncle Obed – Obed Wilkins – brother of yourmother."

"Indeed!" said Mrs. Ross, coldly, eyeing the old man's shabby attirewith something like disdain. "You must be an old man!"

"Seventy-two, Lucinda. I was born in October, while your mother was twoyears younger than I, and born in August. I didn't think to outlive her, seeing she was younger, but I have."

"I think it was imprudent in a man of your age coming so far," said Mrs.

Ross.

"I was all alone, Lucinda. My daughter died last spring, and I wanted tobe near some one that was akin to me, so I've come to see the onlyrelations I've got left on earth."

"That's very cool," thought Mrs. Ross. "He expects us to support him, Isuppose. He looks as poor as poverty. He ought to have gone to thepoorhouse in his old home."

To be sure, she would not like to have had it known that she had anuncle in the poorhouse; but, so far away as Illinois, it would not havebeen known to any of her Eastern friends, and wouldn't matter so much.

"I will speak to Colonel Ross about it, Mr. Wilkins," she said, coldly.

"You can stay to supper, and see him then."

"Don't call me Mr. Wilkins. I'm your Uncle Obed," said the old man.

"You may be my uncle, but I am not sufficiently acquainted with you yetfor that," she answered. "You can come upstairs, if you feel tired, andlie down till supper time."

"Thank you, I will," said Uncle Obed.

The offer of Mrs. Ross was dictated not so much by kindness as by thedesire to get her shabby uncle well out of the way, and have a chancefor a private conference with her husband, whom she expected everyminute.

If the unannounced visit of Uncle Obed may be thought to need an excuse, it can easily be found. For years, when Mrs. Ross was a girl, she andher mother were mainly supported by the now despised uncle, without whomthey might have become dependent upon charity.