Mention has been made of an old trunk belonging to Frank's father, which, had been forwarded to him from the country by his Uncle Pelatiah. It may be mentioned here that our hero's father had been agent of a woollen mill in a large manufacturing town. For a considerable number of years he had been in receipt of a handsome salary, and had lived in good style, but still within his income. He was naturally supposed to possess a comfortable property.

His death was sudden. He was thrown from a carriage, and, striking his head upon the curbstone, was picked up senseless, and died unconscious. Upon examining into his affairs his administrator was unable to find any property beyond what was needed to pay the few debts he left behind him. So it came about that Frank was left a penniless orphan. His Uncle Pelatiah was his nearest relative, and to him he was sent. Pelatiah Kavanagh was not a bad man, nor was he intentionally unkind; but he was very close. All his life he had denied himself, to save money; and in this he had been ably assisted by his wife, who was even closer and meaner than her husband. It may readily be supposed that it was very disagreeable to both husband and wife to have a penniless nephew thrown upon their care and protection.

"How could your brother be so thoughtless and inconsiderate as to use up all his money, and leave his son destitute? Didn't he have a handsome income?"

"Yes," said Pelatiah. "He got two thousand dollars a year, and maybe more."

"You don't say so!" ejaculated his wife. "He'd ought to have saved two-thirds of it. I declare it's scandalous for a man to waste his substance in that way."

"My brother was allus free with his money. He wasn't so keerful as you and I be."

"I should think not, indeed. We don't begin to spend half as much as he did, and now he comes upon us to support his child."

"It don't seem right," said Pelatiah.

"Right? It's outrageous!" exclaimed Mrs. Kavanagh, energetically. "I declare I have no patience with such a man. It would only be right to send this boy Frank to the poor-house."

"The neighbors would talk," protested Pelatiah, who was half inclined to accept his wife's view, but was more sensitive to the criticism of the community in which he lived.

"Let 'em talk!" said his more independent helpmate. "It isn't right that this boy should use up the property that we have scraped together for his cousin Jonathan."

"We must keep him for a while, Hannah; but I'll get rid of him as soon I can consistently."

With this Mrs. Kavanagh had to be satisfied; but, during her nephew's stay of two months in the farm-house, she contrived to make him uncomfortable by harsh criticisms of his dead father, whom he had tenderly loved.

"You must have lived very extravagant," she said, "or your father would have left a handsome property."

"I don't think we did, Aunt Hannah."

"You father kept a carriage,—didn't he?"

"Yes; he had considerable riding to do."

"How much help did he keep?"

"Only one servant in the kitchen, and a stable-boy."

"There was no need of a boy. You could have done the work in the stable."

"I was kept at school."

"Oh, of course!" sneered his aunt. "You must be brought up as a young gentleman. Our Jonathan never had any such chances, and now you're livin' on him, or about the same. I suppose you kept an extravagant table too. What did you generally have for breakfast?"

So Aunt Hannah continued her catechising, much to Frank's discomfort. She commented severely upon the wastefulness of always having pastry for dinner.

"We can't afford it," she said, emphatically; "but then again we don't mean to have our Jonathan beholden to anybody in case your uncle and I are cast off sudden. What did you have for dinner on Sunday?"

"Meat and pudding and ice-cream,—that is, in warm weather."

"Ice-cream!" ejaculated Aunt Hannah, holding up both hands. "No wonder your father didn't leave nothin'. Why, we don't have ice-cream more'n once a year, and now we can't afford to have it at all, since we've got another mouth to feed."

"I am sorry that you have to stint yourself on my account," replied Frank, feeling rather uncomfortable.

"I suppose it's our cross," said Mrs. Kavanagh, gloomily; "but it does seem hard that we can't profit by our prudence because of your father's wasteful extravagance."

Such remarks were very disagreeable to our young hero, and it was hard for him to hear his father so criticised. He supposed they must have lived extravagantly, since it was so constantly charged by those about him, and he felt puzzled to account for his father's leaving nothing. When, after two months, his uncle and aunt, who had deliberated upon what was best to be done, proposed to him to go to New York and try to earn his own living, he caught at the idea. He knew that he might suffer hardships in the new life that awaited him, but if he could support himself in any way he would escape from the cruel taunts to which he was now forced to listen every day. How he reached the city, and how he succeeded, my readers know. We now come to the trunk, which, some time after its reception, Frank set about examining.

He found it was filled with clothing belonging to his father. Though a part were in good condition it seemed doubtful whether they would be of much service to him. It occurred to him to examine the pockets of the coats. In one he found a common yellow envelope, bearing his father's name. Opening it, he found, to his great astonishment, that it was a certificate of railroad stock, setting forth his father's ownership of one hundred shares of the capital stock of the said railway.

Our hero was greatly excited by his discovery. This, then, was the form in which his father had invested his savings. What the shares were worth he had no idea; but he rejoiced chiefly because now he could defend his father from the charge of recklessly spending his entire income, and saving nothing. He resolved, as soon as he could find time, to visit a Wall-street broker, by whom he had occasionally been employed, and inquire the value of the stock. Two days afterwards the opportunity came, and he availed himself of it at once.

"Can you tell me the value of these shares, Mr. Glynn?" he asked.

"They are quoted to-day at one hundred and ten," answered the broker, referring to a list of the day's stock quotations.

"Do you mean that each share is worth a hundred and ten dollars?" asked Frank, in excitement.

"Certainly."

"Then the whole are worth five thousand five hundred dollars?"

"Rather more; for the last semi-annual dividend has not been collected. To whom do they belong?"

"They did belong to my father. Now I suppose they are mine."

"Has your father's estate been administered upon?"

"Yes; but these shares had not then been found."

"Then some legal steps will be necessary before you can take possession, and dispose of them. I will give you the address of a good lawyer, and advise you to consult him at once."

Frank did so, and the lawyer wrote to Uncle Pelatiah to acquaint him with the discovery. The news created great excitement at the farm.

"Why, Frank's a rich boy!" ejaculated Aunt Hannah.

"And my brother wasn't so foolishly extravagant as we supposed."

"That may be; but with his salary we could have saved more."

"Perhaps we might; but these shares are worth almost six thousand dollars. That's a good deal of money, Hannah."

"So it is, Pelatiah. I'll tell you what we'd better do."

"What?"

"Invite Frank to come back and board with us. He can afford to pay handsome board, and it seems better that the money should go to us than a stranger."

"Just so, Hannah. He could board with us, and go to school."

"You'd better write and invite him to come. I allus liked the boy, and if we could have afforded it, I'd have been in favor of keepin' him for nothing."

"So would I," said his uncle; and he probably believed it, though after what had happened it will be rather difficult for the reader to credit it.

The letter was written, but Frank had no desire to return to the old farm, and the society of his uncle's family.

"I have got used to the city," he wrote, "and have made a good many friends here. I don't know yet whether I shall take a business position, or go to school; but, if the latter, the schools here are better than in the country. I hope to come and see you before long; but, I would prefer to live in New York."

"He's gettin' uppish," said Aunt Hannah, who was considerably disappointed, for she had made up her mind just how much they could venture to charge for board, and how this would increase their annual savings.

"I suppose it's natural for a boy to prefer the city," said his uncle.

"If the boy has a chance to handle his money there won't be much of it left by the time he's twenty-one," said Aunt Hannah. "You ought to be his guardian."

"He has the right to choose his own guardian," said Uncle Pelatiah. "He'll take some city man likely."

Frank did, in fact, select the lawyer, having learned that he was a man of high reputation for integrity. He offered it to Mr. Bowen; but that gentleman, while congratulating his young friend upon his greatly improved prospects, said that he was a man of books rather than of business, and would prefer that some other person be selected.

The next thing was to resign his place as telegraph boy.

"We are sorry to lose you," said the superintendent. "Your are one of our best boys. Do you wish to go at once?"

"No, sir; I will stay till the end of the month."

"Very well. We shall be glad to have you."

Three weeks yet remained till the close of the month. It was not long, but before the time had passed Frank found himself in a very unpleasant predicament, from no fault of his own, but in consequence of the enmity of the clerk whom he had been instrumental in displacing.