Mr. Tarbox had heard of Mrs. Courtney’s death, but had not heard the particulars of the will.  He took it for granted that Frank was sole heir, and it did cross his mind more than once how very agreeable it would be if he could be selected as guardian of the rich young heir.  Of course, he knew that there was no probability of it, since the stepfather would undoubtedly be appointed to that position.

Mr. Tarbox had just sold a calico dress pattern to a poor woman, when his attention was drawn to the entrance of Frank Courtney, who entered his store, valise in hand.

Mr. Tarbox was rather short-sighted, and did not immediately recognize the son of his rich cousin.

“What can I do for you, young man?” he asked, in his business tone.

“This is Mr. Tarbox, I believe?” said Frank, who did not know his relatives very well.

“Yes, that is my name.”

“I am Frank Courtney.”

“Bless my soul!” ejaculated Mr. Tarbox, surprised and delighted.  “When did you arrive in Newark?”

“I have only just arrived.”

“I do hope you are going to make us a visit,” said Mr. Tarbox, cordially.

“Thank you!” answered Frank, cheered by this warm reception.  “If you are sure it won’t inconvenience you.”

“Inconvenience me!  We shall be delighted to have you with us.”

“You must come up and see Mrs. Tarbox.  She will be delighted to see you.”

Mr. Tarbox lived over his store.  There was a door from the street adjoining the shop front.  Mr. Tarbox opened it with a pass-key, and conducted Frank upstairs, ushering him into a gloomy parlor, with stiff, straightbacked chairs, ranged at regular intervals along the sides of the room, and a marble-topped center table, with two or three books lying upon it.  There was a framed engraving, representing Washington crossing the Delaware, over the mantel, and two plaster figures and similar ornaments on the mantelpiece.  The whole aspect of the room chilled Frank.

“Wait here, and I will call my wife,” said Mr. Tarbox.

Frank sat down on a hard sofa and awaited the entrance of Mrs. Tarbox.

She came in, a tall, thin woman, about as handsome for a woman as her husband was for a man.  Indeed, they were very well matched.  She was quite as mean as he, and between them they managed to make annually a sensible addition to their world possessions.

Mr. Tarbox privately hinted his hopes respecting Frank to his wife, and she instantly agreed that it would be a most eligible arrangement.

“We must make him contented, my dear,” said her husband.  “Give him the best bedroom, and I think it might be well to have something a little extra for supper.”

“I did intend to put on the rest of that cold mutton,” said Mrs. Tarbox, doubtfully.

“It won’t do, Martha.  There is only a little of it, you know, and the boy has been traveling, and, of course, is hungry.  What do you say, now, to some nice beefsteak?”