"What!" exclaimed Bob, in great excitement. "Not the receipt for the money?"

"That's just what it is," answered Sam, nodding emphatically.

"Let me see it."

Sam put the paper in Bob's hand.

There it was in regular form, a receipt for one hundred and fifty dollars, being the semi-annual interest on a mortgage on Burton's Ranch, dated on the day of Richard Burton's death, and signed by Aaron Wolverton.

"Hurrah!" shouted Bob, waving it aloft. "Then father did pay it, after all, and that mean scoundrel—excuse my speaking of your uncle in such terms, Sam—"

"I don't mind," said Sam, philosophically.

"That mean scoundrel wanted us to pay the money a second time. I'm ever so much obliged to you, Sam. But where on earth did you find it?"

"I'll tell you, Bob," answered Sam, perching himself on the fence. "This forenoon Uncle Aaron started out on business—I don't know where he went."

"I know," said Clip, giving way to a burst of merriment.

"How do you know?"

"I rowed him across de creek. I was out in de boat when old Massa Wolverton come along and axed me to take him across. I made him pay me a nickel, and he got into de boat," and Clip began to laugh once more.

"I don't see anything to laugh at, Clip."

"You would, massa Bob, ef you'd been dar. We was almost across when de old boat upset, yah! yah! and old Massa Wolverton—it makes me laugh like to split—tumbled into de water, and got wet as a drownded rat."

"Clip, you bad boy, you did it on purpose," said Bob, trying to look stern.

"Wish I may die!" asseverated Clip, stoutly, for he was not an imitator of George Washington. "Didn't de old man look mad, dough? He jest shook his fist at me, and called me a black imp, 'deed he did."

"I am afraid he was right, Clip," said Bob, shaking his head. "But you haven't told me about the receipt, Sam."

"He sent me into his room to get his hat, when right down on the floor by his desk, I saw a piece of paper. I remembered what you told me, Bob, about the receipt, so I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket. I had to be quick about it, for Uncle Aaron is always in a hurry. Well, I took out the hat, and I didn't dare to take out the paper and look at it till he was out of sight."

"And then—"

"Well, then I saw it was the paper you wanted."

"Mr. Wolverton took it from the pocket of my poor father when he lay dead on the spot where he was thrown out," said Bob, gravely. "It would be hard to think of a meaner piece of rascality."

"Well, I'm glad you've got it, Bob. I don't know as I was right in taking it, but I'll take the risk."

"If you never do anything worse than that, Sam, you won't have much to answer for. I wish you'd let me give you something."

"No, Bob, you are my friend, and it would be a pity if I couldn't do you a favor without getting paid for it."

"But this is a great favor. It is worth a hundred and fifty dollars. Without it we might, and probable would, have to pay the interest money over again. Now, when your uncle calls for it, we shall only have to show him the receipt."

"He'll wonder where it came from."

"I hope it won't get you into trouble, Sam."

"He won't suspect me. He'll know I couldn't break into his desk, and he won't know anything about having dropped it on the floor. I don't see how he came to be so careless."

"Depend upon it, Sam, it was the work of Providence. Mother says that God often overrules the designs of the wicked, and I think this is an instance. Henceforth, Sam, though you are old Wolverton's nephew, I shall consider you a friend of our family. Why can't you stay to supper to-night?"

"It would never do, Bob, unless I asked permission."

"Then ask permission."

"I am afraid it wouldn't be granted."

"If your uncle is as mean as I think he is, he would be glad for you to get a meal at the expense of somebody else."

"He wouldn't like to have me enjoy myself," said Sam.

"Is he so mean as that?"

"Whenever he hears me singing, he looks mad, and wants to know why I am making a fool of myself."

"He's an uncle to be proud of," said Bob, ironically.

"I just wish I could live at your house, Bob."

"Perhaps I can make an exchange, and give Clip to your uncle instead of you."

"Oh, Massa Bob, don't you do it!" exclaimed Clip, looking scared. "Old Massa Wolverton would kill me, I know he would. He hates niggers, I heard him say so."

Bob and Sam laughed, being amused by the evident terror of the young colored boy.

"I won't do it, Clip, unless you are very bad," said Bob, gravely, "though I think Sam would be willing to change."

"Indeed I would," said Sam with a sigh. "There's no such good luck for me."

When Bob carried in the receipt and showed it to his mother, her face lighted up with joy.

"This is indeed a stroke of good fortune," she said; "or rather it seems like a direct interposition of Providence—that Providence that cares for the widow and the fatherless. You must make Sam a present."

"So I will, mother; but if he understands it is for this he won't take anything."

"Sam is evidently very different from his uncle. He is a sound scion springing from a corrupt trunk. Leave it to me to manage. Won't he stay to supper?"

"Not to-night. I invited him, but he was afraid to accept the invitation, for fear of being punished."

"Is his uncle so severe, then?"

"I suspect he beats Sam, though Sam doesn't like to own it."

"And this man, this cruel tyrant, wants to marry me," thought Mrs. Burton, shuddering.

Two days later Sam chanced to be in the house with the two boys, when Mrs. Burton passed through the room, and greeted him pleasantly.

"When is your birthday?" she asked.

"Last week—Thursday—ma'am."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Did you receive a birthday present?"

Sam shook his head.

"There's no one to give me presents," he said.

"You have an uncle and aunt, Sam."

"They never give presents. They tell me I ought to be thankful that they take care of me, and save me from going to the poor-house."

"There would be no danger of that, Sam," said Bob. "If your uncle ever turns you out to shift for yourself, come and live with us."

"I wish he would turn me out to-morrow, then," said Sam; and it was evident the boy meant it.

"Sam, you will permit me to make up for your uncle's neglect," said Mrs. Burton, kindly. "Here is a neck-tie. I bought it for Robert, but I can get another for him. And here is something else which may prove acceptable."

She drew from her pocket a silver dollar, and put it into Sam's hand.

"Is this really for me?" asked Sam, joyfully.

"Yes; it is only a small gift, but—"

"I never had so much money before in my life," said Sam. "It makes me feel rich."

Mrs. Burton looked significantly at Bob. Her woman's wit had devised a way of rewarding Sam for the service he had done the family without his being aware of it.

The gift was well meant, but it was destined to get poor Sam into trouble.