“Uncle Oliver! how kind you are to visit me!” cried Mrs. Forbush, the tears starting from her eyes.

“Kind!  Nonsense!  I have been very unkind to neglect you so long.  But it wasn’t all my fault.  There were others who did all they could to keep us apart.  You have lost your husband?”

“Yes, uncle.  He was poor, but he was one of the kindest and best of men, and made me happy.”

“I begin to think I have been an old fool, Rebecca.  Philip thinks so, too.”

“Oh, Mr. Carter!” exclaimed our hero.

“Yes, you do, Philip,” asserted Mr. Carter, “and you are quite right.  However, as you told me, it is never too late to mend.”

“Mrs. Forbush will think I take strange liberties with you, sir.”

“I don’t object to good advice, even from a boy.  But who is this?”

Julia had just entered the room.  She was a bright, attractive girl, but held back bashfully until her mother said: 

“Julia, this is Uncle Oliver Carter.  You have heard me speak of him.”

“Yes, mamma.”

“And scold about him, I dare say.  Well, Julia, come and give your old uncle a kiss.”

Julia blushed, but obeyed her uncle’s request.

“I should know she was your child, Rebecca.  She looks as you did at her age.  Now tell me, have you any engagement this morning, you two?”

“No, Uncle Oliver.”

“Then I will find one for you.  I have a carriage at the door.  You will please put on your bonnets.  We are going shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Yes, I am going to fit out both of you in a manner more befitting relatives of mine.  The fact is, Niece Rebecca, you are actually shabby.”

“I know it, uncle, but there has been so many ways of spending money that I have had to neglect my dress.

“Very likely.  I understand.  Things are different now.  Now, don’t be over an hour getting ready!”

“We are not fashionable, uncle,” said Mrs. Forbush, “and we haven’t any change to make.”

They entered the carriage, and drove to a large and fashionable store, where everything necessary to a lady’s toilet, including dresses quite complete, could be obtained.  Mrs. Forbush was in favor of selecting very plain articles, but her uncle overruled her, and pointed out costumes much more costly.

“But, uncle,” objected Mrs. Forbush, “these things won’t at all correspond with our plain home and mode of living.  Think of a boarding-house keeper arrayed like a fine lady.”

“You are going to give up taking boarders—­that is, you will have none but Philip and myself.”

“Will you really live with us, uncle?  But the house is too poor.”

“Of course it is, but you are going to move.  I will speak further on this point when you are through your purchases.”

At length the shopping was over, and they re-entered the carriage.

“Drive to No.—­ Madison Avenue,” said Mr. Carter to the driver.