"
"You were the tinsmith?"
"The same. Bad pennies always return, they say. I've come back to look
up the family and find how many are left. Curious sort of a job, isn't
it."
"I don't know. Perhaps it's natural," replied the boy, reflectively.
"But I'm sorry you came to Aunt Jane first."
"Why?"
"She's in bad health--quite ill, you know--and her temper's dreadful.
Perhaps she--she--"
"I know. But I haven't seen her in years; and, after all, she's my
sister. And back at the old home, where I went first, no one knew
anything about what had become of the family except Jane. They kept
track of her because she suddenly became rich, and a great lady, and
that was a surprising thing to happen to a Merrick. We've always been
a poor lot, you know."
The boy glanced at the bundle, pityingly, and the little man caught
the look and smiled his sweet, cheery smile.
"My valise was too heavy to carry," he said; "so I wrapped up a few
things in case Jane wanted me to stay over night. And that's why I
didn't get a horse at the livery, you know. Somebody'd have to take it
back again."
"I'm sure she'll ask you to stay, sir.
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