Mr. Wharton sat at dinner with his nephew and the housekeeper. He had been at home for some time, and of course on his arrival had been greeted with the news of our hero’s perfidy. But, to the indignation of Mrs. Bradley and John, he was obstinately incredulous.

“There is some mistake, I am sure,” he said. “Such a boy as Frank is incapable of stealing. You may be mistaken after all, John. Why did you not let him stay till I got back? I should like to have examined him myself.”

“I was so angry with him for repaying your kindness in such a way that I instantly ordered him out of the house.”

“I blame you, John, for your haste,” said his uncle. “It was not just to the boy.”

“I acted for the best, sir,” he forced himself to say in a subdued tone.

“Young people are apt to be impetuous, and I excuse you; but you should have waited for my return. I will call at Gilbert & Mack’s, and inquire of Frank himself what explanation he has to give.”

“Of course, sir, you will do what you think proper,” said his nephew.

This ended the conversation, and Mr. Wharton, according to his declared intention, went to Gilbert & Mack’s. He returned disappointed with the information that our hero was no longer in the store.

I now return to Mr. Wharton at dinner.

“Here is a letter for you, sir,” said the housekeeper. “It was brought by the postman this afternoon.”

Mr. Wharton adjusted his spectacles and read as follows:

“No.— Wall Street.

“Dear Sir: Will you have the kindness to call at my office to-morrow morning at eleven o’clock, if it suits your convenience? I have an important communication to make to you, which will, I think be of an agreeable character. Should the time named not suit you, will you have the kindness to name your own time?

“Yours respectfully,

“MORRIS HALL.”

“Read that, John,” said his uncle, passing him the letter.

“Morris Hall is a lawyer, I believe, sir,” said John.

“Have you any idea of the nature of the communication he desires to make?”

“No idea at all.”

“If it would relieve you, sir, I will go in your place,” said John, whose curiosity was aroused.

“Thank you, John, but this is evidently a personal matter. I shall go down there to-morrow at the appointed time.”

John was far from suspecting that the communication related to Frank, though he had heard the day previous from Nathan Graves of the boy’s escape. He had been very much annoyed, and had given his agent a severe scolding, with imperative orders to recapture the boy, if possible.

It was not without a feeling of curiosity that Mr. Wharton entered the law office of Mr. Hall. He announced himself and was cordially welcomed.

“You have a communication to make to me,” said Mr. Wharton.

“I have.”

“Tell me all without delay.”

“I will, sir. This is the communication I desire to make.”

The story of John Wade’s treachery was told, and the means by which he had imposed upon his uncle, but the lawyer carefully abstained from identifying the lost grandson with Frank Fowler.

When the story was concluded, Mr. Wharton said:

“Where is my grandson—my poor George’s boy? Find him for me, and name your own reward.”

“I will show him to you at once, sir. Frank!”

At the word, Frank, who was in an inner office, entered. Mr. Wharton started in amazement.

“Frank!” he exclaimed. “My dear boy, is it you who are my grandson?”

“Grandfather!”

Mr. Wharton held out his arms, and our hero, already attached to him for his kindness, was folded in close embrace.

“Then you believe I am your grandson?” said Frank.

“I believe it without further proof.”

“Still, Mr. Wharton,” said the lawyer, “I want to submit my whole proof. Mrs. Parker!”

Mrs. Parker entered and detailed her part in the plot, which for fourteen years had separated Frank from his family.

“Enough!” said Mr. Wharton. “I am convinced—I did not believe my nephew capable of such baseness. Mrs. Parker, you shall not regret your confession. I will give you a pension which will relieve you from all fear of want. Call next week on Mr. Hall, and you shall learn what provision I have made for you. You, Frank, will return with me.”

“What will Mr. John say?” asked Frank.

“He shall no longer sleep under my roof,” said Mr. Wharton, sternly.

Frank was taken to a tailor and fitted out with a handsome new suit, ready-made for immediate use, while three more were ordered.

When Mr. Wharton reached home, he entered the library and rang the bell.

To the servant who answered he said:

“Is Mr. John at home?”

“Yes, sir; he came in ten minutes ago.”

“Tell him I wish to see him at once in the library. Summon the housekeeper, also.”

Surprised at the summons, John Wade answered it directly. He and Mrs. Bradley met at the door and entered together. Their surprise and dismay may be conjectured when they saw our hero seated beside Mr. Wharton, dressed like a young gentleman.

“John Wade,” said his uncle, sternly, “the boy whom you malign, the boy you have so deeply wronged, has found a permanent home in this house.”

“What, sir! you take him back?”

“I do. There is no more fitting place for him than the house of his grandfather.”

“His grandfather!” exclaimed his nephew and the housekeeper, in chorus.

“I have abundant proof of the relationship. This morning I have listened to the story of your treachery. I have seen the woman whose son, represented to me as my grandson, lies in Greenwood Cemetery. I have learned your wicked plans to defraud him of his inheritance, and I tell you that you have failed.”

“I shall make my will to-morrow, bequeathing all my property to my grandson, excepting only an annual income of two thousand dollars to yourself. And now I must trouble you to find a boarding place. After what has passed I do not desire to have you in the family.”

“I do not believe he is your grandson,” said John Wade, too angry to heed prudential considerations.

“Your opinion is of little consequence.”

“Then, sir, I have only to wish you good-morning. I will send for my trunks during the day.”

“Good-morning,” said Mr. Wharton, gravely, and John Wade left the room, baffled and humiliated.

“I hope, sir,” said the housekeeper, alarmed for her position; “I hope you don’t think I knew Mr. Frank was your grandson. I never was so astonished and flustrated in my life. I hope you won’t discharge me, sir—me that have served you so faithfully for many years.”

“You shall remain on probation. But if Frank ever has any fault to find with you, you must go.”

“I hope you will forgive me, Mr. Frank.”

“I forgive you freely,” said our hero, who was at a generous disposition.