The housekeeper turned at the bidding of her mistress, and gazed at her in apprehension, waiting for her to speak.

“I wish to speak to you about another matter, Mrs. Mercer. I have made a discovery which reflects seriously upon you.”

“What is it?” asked the housekeeper, nervously.

“Why, it is that for a long time—I don’t know how long—I have been paying Mr. Talbot higher prices for groceries and other articles than he charges any one else.”

“I didn’t know it,” answered Mrs. Mercer.

“Do you mean to say that he imposed upon you?”

“That’s just what I do say,” answered the housekeeper, gaining boldness. “I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

Mrs. Granville eyed her gravely.

“It is too late to impose upon me, Mrs. Mercer,” she said. “I know why he charged me extra prices.”

“He wanted to make money out of you, I suppose.”

“He or some one else. It is useless to misrepresent. I know that this extra sum went into your pocket. Wait,” seeing the housekeeper about to speak. “I learned his usual prices, and with Paul’s help I went over the bills for the last three months, and have discovered how much I have been swindled.”

“It’s his doings, I’ve no doubt,” said Mrs. Mercer, bitterly, referring to Paul.

“You are mistaken; though if it were true it would not help you any. I myself discovered the overcharge, and simply employed Paul to look over the bills with me.”

“Talbot lied!” said the housekeeper, desperately. She could not have expected this denial would benefit her, but she was reluctant to confess her guilt.

“I believe he tells the truth,” returned her mistress. “What have you to say?”

“I can’t say anything; it wouldn’t do any good,” said Mrs. Mercer, sullenly. “You’re so infatuated with that boy that you won’t do me justice.”

“Let me remind you,” said the old lady with dignity, “that Paul has nothing whatever to do with the matter. I think well of him, it is true, and am even attached to him, but your wrong doing commenced before he came, and your senseless jealousy has betrayed you into a disgraceful plot against him. Of course you and your son cannot remain in my employment.”

The housekeeper had not anticipated this. It was a terrible thought that she and Frost must go forth from the home that had known them so long.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Granville,” she pleaded in great agitation. “I will give up all the money I have made out of my purchases on your account—I will, indeed—and more, too, if you insist upon it. Only let me stay! Think of the years I have been in your service!”

“You should have thought of that, Mrs. Mercer. You should have thought of my kindness to you and your son, and rejected the temptation to rob me as you have done.”

“I will give it all back—I told you I would,” said the housekeeper, with feverish lips.

“It’s too late! I have lost confidence in you. You are not the woman I supposed; for a small gain you have thrown away a great prospect. You and your son were down in my will for a handsome sum. This day I have made a new will.”

“And given your property to that boy, I suppose?” said the housekeeper in passionate anger.

“I decline to tell you in what way I have disposed of my money!” returned the old lady with dignity. “And now for the future. You and your son will leave me at the end of this week.”

“I will leave this very day!” exclaimed Mrs. Mercer, angrily.

“You can do as you please, but I should not advise you to do so. You did not wait for my conclusion. You will leave at the end of the week, but if you remain till then, you will not go empty handed. I will not only let you keep what you have wrongfully taken, but in acknowledgment of past services, I will pay you and Frost three months’ wages in advance to keep you until you find new employment.”

“I will stay,” said the housekeeper, sullenly.

“It will be best.”

“Shall you keep this boy with you?” she could not help asking, jealously.

“Probably not long. He will wish to go back to the city.”

This assurance relieved Mrs. Mercer, and almost reconciled her to her own departure.

At the end of the week, however, Mrs. Granville closed her house for a time, employing a neighboring farmer to take care of the land, and went to New York, under Paul’s escort, to make her niece a visit. When she parted with Paul, she placed in his hands a check for one hundred dollars.

“That is for yourself,” she said. “Come and see me every week. You will not lose your time.”

When Paul returned to his old home, he found a great change in old Jerry. He was better in health, though still feeble, but his mind seemed more at rest. Mrs. Hogan was sick, and his daughter in law, Ellen Barclay, was in attendance upon him. To Paul’s increased surprise the two children, Jimmy and Mary, were in the room, and seemed on very good terms with their grandfather.

“You didn’t expect to see me here, Paul,” said Mrs. Barclay.

“No, but I am glad to find you here,” said the telegraph boy, cordially.

“Mrs. Hogan has been sick with a fever, and it was necessary that some one should take her place. So I came.”

“But it must be inconvenient for you to come over from Jersey City every day.”

“I have left Jersey City, and occupy an apartment upstairs.”

“How does old Jerry—Mr. Barclay—look upon you?”

“We are very good friends. I am more used to nursing than Mrs. Hogan, and I make him comfortable.”

“I thought he might be prejudiced against you on account of your husband.”

“He was at first, but we have talked freely about him, and he finds that I, too, am in fear of him. So we have made common cause and he trusts me.”

“I am very glad of it,” said, Paul, earnestly. “It is as it should be; I don’t think Jerry can live long, and you and your children ought to get the benefit of his money.”

“You are a good boy, Number 91. I misjudged you at first. I thought you were plotting for the old man’s money, and so, I am sure, did my husband.”

“You don’t think so now?”

“No, I know you better.”

“It is strange,” said Paul, smiling, “but out in the country, where I have spent the last few weeks, I was suspected of plotting for the property of an old lady by whom I was employed. The housekeeper was very much exercised in mind, and tried to fasten a charge of theft upon me.”

“I hope she was not believed.”

“No; Mrs. Granville knew me better.”

“I wish the lady you mention would leave you something, Paul.”

“I don’t trouble myself with such thoughts. I have good friends, and I am sure that I shall prosper if I keep my health.”

“No one deserves success better.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Barclay. I value your good opinion.”

This conversation took place in the entry. Just then the feeble voice of Jerry was heard, calling “Ellen.”

His daughter in law hastened to the bedside of the old man, and attended to his wants. Paul followed her into the room.

Five minutes later a heavy step was heard on the stairs, and the door was opened; all turned to see who was the visitor. The old man uttered a cry of alarm. His eyes were on the door, and he was the first to recognize the intruder.

“James!” he cried.

“You’re right, father,” said James Barclay, gruffly; “I’m glad you welcome me so warmly.”