“Boy, does Mr. Brackett live here?”

Andy looked up from his work, and saw standing at a little distance a man, apparently about thirty years of age.

He started in amazement, for he had no difficulty in recognizing the younger of the two highwaymen who had so nearly robbed him of the money intrusted to him by the Misses Peabody. There are cases of remarkable resemblance, but Andy was a close observer, and he was satisfied this was not such a case, but that the companion of Mike Hogan stood before him.

Owing to his surprise, he delayed answering the question.

“Well, boy, what are you gaping at?” demanded the young man, impatiently. “Did you hear my question?”

“Excuse me, sir! Yes, Mr. Brackett does live here.”

“Is Mrs. Brackett at home?” continued the newcomer.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, pilot me in, then,” said the other, carelessly. “Are you Brackett’s hired boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, it seems to me he might get a smarter one.”

“I was smart enough to foil you once, Mr. Highwayman,” thought Andy; but he only answered, “Very likely he might.”

“Come, that’s candid! It makes me think better of you. Go ahead, and I’ll follow.”

“What does this robber want of Mrs. Brackett, I wonder?” thought Andy. “Ought I to warn her of his character?”

Mrs. Brackett was ironing in the kitchen, when Andy entered, followed by the stranger. She was not feeling very good-natured, and jumped to the conclusion that the intruder was a peddler.

“Henry,” said she, sharply, “what makes you bring a peddler into the house? You know I never have anything to do with them.”

Andy was going to plead in excuse that the stranger had inquired particularly for her, but he was spared the trouble.

“I must say, Lucinda,” said the young man, bursting out laughing, “that you give a curious reception to your only brother.”

“George, is it really you?” exclaimed Mrs. Brackett, laying down her flatiron, in surprise and joy.

“I reckon it is. How are you, old girl?”

Mrs. Brackett, who was really attached to her younger brother, advanced eagerly and imprinted a kiss on his cheek, and began to express her wonder at his sudden appearance.

Andy, concluding that his presence was no longer required, left the kitchen, and returned to work.

He, too, was full of surprise.

“It is strange enough that the man who tried to rob me should be the brother of my employer’s wife,” he soliloquized. “Of course, she can’t be aware of his mode of life.”

Was Andy called upon to inform her? He decided not, but if this man took up his residence for any length of time at Mr. Brackett’s house, he would feel compelled to watch him narrowly, lest he should fall into his old dishonest practices.

“He didn’t recognize me,” Andy reflected, with satisfaction. “If he had, he might have tried to do me an injury lest I should betray him.”

Meanwhile, the brother and sister were chatting together in the kitchen.

“What have you been doing, George?” asked Mrs. Brackett. “Why is it that you have been silent for so long?”

“Oh, I’ve been drifting about, Lucinda!” said her brother.

“But haven’t you been engaged in any business?” asked his sister.

“Oh, well, part of the time I’ve been a collector,” said George, with a quizzical smile.

He did not care to explain that his collecting had been from unoffending travelers, nor did he care to mention that he had served a three-years’ term at Sing Sing prison, under an assumed name.

“It must be eight years since we met, George,” went on Mrs. Brackett.

“Is it as long as that?” said George, indifferently.

“Yes, I know it is, for my dear little Tommy was a baby, and now he is a fine boy of eight years.”

“Inherits your sweet disposition, Lucinda, I suppose,” said her brother, banteringly.

“You always would have your joke, George,” said Mrs. Brackett, coloring and looking annoyed.

“Have you got any more children, Lucinda?”

“Yes—three more.”

“They must be a great nuisance,” said her brother, shrugging his shoulders.

“You were a nuisance when you were a small boy,” said his sister, with spirit.

“I dare say I was. Well, how are you and Brackett getting along?”

“We ain’t getting rich,” said Mrs. Brackett, with a critical glance at her brother, as if to determine whether he was likely to want assistance.

He seemed very well dressed, and she hoped his circumstances were good, for, though she was attached to him, she was, on the whole, more attached to her money.

“You seem to be pretty prosperous,” said George.

“Oh, yes! We have enough to eat, and drink and wear, but we can’t save any money.”

Mrs. Brackett conveniently forgot the five hundred dollars which she had in the savings bank.

“Is the old man Dodge still living?”

“He’s living, and likely to live,” said his sister, in a dissatisfied tone.

“Must be most a hundred, isn’t he?”

“He’s seventy-five, and can eat as much as a young man.”

“How about the property? Is it all fixed right?” asked her brother, now showing some genuine interest.

“He gave Jeremiah the farm some years ago, but he won’t give anything else, and we have to give him his board out of it.”

“Has he got much money besides?”

“He must have somewhere from ten to fifteen thousand dollars.”

“Whew! that’s a pile! It will go to you in the end, won’t it?”

“I don’t know; it ought to. But he’s got some relations off in the East, who may come in.”

“Then you must get him to make a will in your favor.”

“I wish he would. Brackett’s spoken to him about it more than once, but he can be very obstinate when he chooses.”

“You must introduce me to the old chap. Perhaps I can soften his obstinacy. I’m rather soft-spoken when I choose to be.”

“You’ll stay and make us a visit, won’t you, George?”

“Yes, I’ll stay a few days. I am tired of work, and shall find it pleasant to rest a while. Where’s Brackett?”

“Here he is.”

Mr. Brackett entered the kitchen at this moment, and glanced with some surprise at the young man, whom he did not at first recognize.

“It’s brother George, Jeremiah,” said Mrs. Brackett. “I don’t wonder you don’t recognize him, it’s so long since we’ve seen him.”

“How are you, George?” said his brother-in-law. “Where did you drop from?”

“Oh, I fancied I’d like to see you and Lucinda again, so I took the cars, and here I am.”

“Business good with you, George?”

“Rather slow! Still, I’ve managed to live. You seem pretty comfortable.”

Mr. Brackett shook his head.

“Farming’s hard work and poor pay,” he said. “I can’t get ahead at all.”

“When the old man pops off, you’ll be pretty comfortable—hey?”

“I hope so; but there is no knowing how he’ll leave the property.”

“Mr. Brackett,” said his wife, when they were alone, “we’d better not say anything to George about that money we’ve got in the savings bank. He might want to borrow it, and he was always careless about money.”

“You’re quite right, Lucindy,” said her husband, approvingly. “You’ve got a long head of your own. I shall be silent as the grave. We had too hard work in laying it up to run any risk with it.”

At supper the newcomer, George White, was introduced to Mr. Dodge and to Andy.

For the first time he seemed to see something familiar in our hero’s face.

“It seems to me I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he said.

“Perhaps you have,” said Andy, indiferently. “Where?”

“I suppose I’m mistaken,” said White, looking puzzled; “but you look some like a boy I met some distance from here.”

Andy forced himself to seem uninterested, and George White dropped the subject, concluding that he was mistaken.