“I will, mother,” said Jonas, his eyes shining with desire.  “Only tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Do you remember what I told Philip the evening before he went away?”

“About his being left at Mr. Brent’s hotel?  Yes, I remember it.”

“And about his true father having disappeared?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Jonas, the letter I received this afternoon was from Philip’s real father.”

“By gosh!” ejaculated Jonas, altering his usual expression of surprise.

“He is in Philadelphia.  He is a very rich man.”

“Then Phil will be rich,” said Jonas, disappointed.  “I thought you said it would be me.”

“Philip’s father has never seen him since he was three years old,” continued Mrs. Brent, taking no notice of her son’s tone.

“What difference does that make, mother?”

“Jonas,” said Mrs. Brent, bending toward her son, “if I choose to tell him that you are Philip, he won’t know the difference.  Do you understand?”

Jonas did understand.

“That’s a bully idea, mother!  Can we pull the wool over the old man’s eyes, do you think?”

“I wish you would not use such expressions, Jonas.  They are not gentlemanly, and you are to be a young gentleman.”

“All right, mother.”

“We can manage it if you are very careful.  It is worth the trouble, Jonas.  I think Mr. Granville—­that is his name—­must be worth a quarter of a million dollars, and if he takes you for Philip the whole will probably go to you.”

“What a head you’ve got, mother!” exclaimed Jonas admiringly.  “It is a tip-top chance.”

“Yes, it is one chance in ten thousand.  But you must do just as I tell you.”

“Oh, I’ll do that, mother.  What must I do?”

“To begin with, you must take Philip’s name.  You must remember that you are no longer Jonas Webb, but Philip Brent.”

“That’ll be a bully joke!” said Jonas, very much amused.  “What would Phil say if he knew I had taken his name?”

“He must not know.  Henceforth we must endeavor to keep out of his way.  Again, you must consider me your step-mother, not your own mother.”

“Yes, I understand.  What are you going to do first, mother?”

“We start for Philadelphia to-morrow.  Your father is lying sick at the Continental Hotel.”

Jonas roared with delight at the manner in which his mother spoke of the sick stranger.

“Oh, it’ll be fun, mother!  Shall we live in Philadelphia?”

“I don’t know.  That will be as Mr. Granville thinks best.”

“Where are you going, mother?  Are you going to live here?”

“Of course I shall be with you.  I will make that a condition.  I cannot be parted from my only boy.”

“But I shall be Mr. Granville’s boy.”

“To the public you will be.  But when we are together in private, we shall be once more mother and son.”