"Strike while the iron's hot!" This was the motto of Mrs. Ross, especially in a matter of this kind. She was firmly resolved to get rid of Uncle Obed as soon as she could.

She had always claimed to be of high family, and to have been brought up in the same style in which she was now living, and here was a witness who could disprove all she had said.

No one knew better than Uncle Obed that she had been very poor in her early days, for it was he who, out of his small means, had contributed to support her mother and herself. Any day he might refer to those years of poverty; and Mrs. Ross felt that she should expire of mortification if her servants should hear of them. Farewell, then, to her aristocratic claims, for she knew well enough that they would be ready enough to spread the report, which would soon reach the ears of all her acquaintances. By way of precaution she took an opportunity of presenting her version of the story to Nancy, who waited on the table.

"Mr. Wilkins is rather a strange old man, Nancy," she said, affably, as Nancy was clearing off the breakfast table the next morning.

"Is he really your uncle, mum?" asked Nancy.

Mrs. Ross wished she could deny it, but felt that she would be found out in falsehood.

"Yes, Nancy, I confess that he is. There is a black sheep in every family, and poor Uncle Obed was the black sheep in ours."

"You don't say so, mum! He seems harmless enough."

"Oh, yes. There's no harm in him; but he's so rustic. Poor grandpa tried to polish him by sending him to expensive schools, but it was no use. He took no interest in books, and wouldn't go to college"--Uncle Obed would have opened his eyes if he had heard this--"and so grandpa bought him a farm, and set him up in business as a farmer. He was rather shiftless, and preferred the company of his farm laborers to going into the fashionable society the rest of the family moved in; and so all his life he has been nothing but a rough, unrefined farmer."

"What a pity, mum."

"Yes, it is a pity, but I suppose it was in him. Of course, it is very mortifying to me to have him come here--so different as he is from the rest of us. I am sure you can understand that, Nancy."

"Oh, yes, mum."

"He won't feel at home among us, and I think I shall ask Colonel Ross to pay his fare back to Illinois, and give him a pension, if he really needs it. I dare say he has lost his farm, and is destitute, for he never knew how to take care of money."

"That would be very kind of you and the colonel, mum," said Nancy, who didn't believe half her mistress was saying, but thought it might be for her interest to pretend she did.

"By the way, Nancy, I think I shall not need any more the mantilla you like so well. You can have it, if you like."

"Oh, thank you, mum," exclaimed Nancy, in surprise.

For she had never before received a present from her mistress, who was well known to be mean and penurious.

The mantilla was a handsome one, and she thanked Mrs. Ross effusively.

"There, I've managed her," thought Mrs. Ross, "though at the expense of the valuable mantilla. I grudge it to her, but it is best to guard her against any of Uncle Obed's stories, at any cost. I must get rid of him as soon as I can."

Colonel Ross wished his wife to postpone speaking for a week, but this she was unwilling to promise. She agreed to let her uncle stay a week, but insisted on giving him notice to quit sooner.

On the morning of the third day she found her opportunity. Breakfast was over, and she left alone with the old man.

"Mr. Wilkins," she said, "I want to have a talk with you."

"Certainly, Lucindy, you can talk just as much as you please. But what makes you call me Mr. Wilkins? When you were a little girl, and came over with a message from your mother, it was always Uncle Obed."

"It is so long since I have seen you that I hardly feel like speaking so familiarly," said Mrs. Ross.

"You'll feel better acquainted after a while, Lucindy."

"That shows he expects to stay a long time," thought Mrs. Ross.

"Don't you think you made a mistake in leaving Illinois?" asked Mrs. Ross, point-blank.

"Well, perhaps I did," admitted Uncle Obed.

"Of course you did. You are too old to come to a new place where you don't know anybody. Now, out there you knew----"

"Pretty nigh everybody."

"Exactly."

"But out there I hadn't any relations left. After my poor Mary died I felt lonesome."

"Still, as you hadn't seen us for so many years, we are almost the same as strangers."

"I can't forget, Lucindy, how you and your poor mother struggled along, and how I tried to help----"

"We won't recall those old times," said Mrs. Ross, impatiently. "I was going to say you wouldn't be happy here. We don't as you were accustomed to do; and, in fact, it would be inconvenient for us to have a new inmate. My health is delicate, and----"

"You look pretty rugged, Lucindy."

"Appearances are deceitful," said Mrs. Ross, nodding her head solemnly. "I am very nervous and all excitement is bad for me."

"I hope I haven't excited you, Lucindy," said Uncle Obed. "I thought I was pretty quiet. As to the work, you've got two girls to help in the kitchen."

"Yes; but there's a certain amount of care that falls upon me which you can't understand."

"I hope yo............