WARK

Erastus Tarbox kept a dry-goods store in the city of Newark, New Jersey.
He was well to do, not so much because of his enterprise and skill as a
merchant as because of his extreme poverty. Some people called it
parsimony. He only employed two clerks to assist him in his store, and
they, as well as the boy who carried out parcels and ran the errands,
were paid scarcely more than two-thirds the rates paid in neighboring
stores.

Mr. Tarbox prided himself upon his relationship to the Courtneys. They
were rich, and riches, in his eyes were a great merit. He often sighed
to think that there was no chance for him to benefit by a share of the
large property owned by his cousins. Without hope of personal advantage,
however, he had always been obsequious to them, and often took occasion
to mention them, by way of enhancing his own social credit somewhat.

Mr. Tarbox had heard of Mrs. Courtney's death, but had not heard the
particulars of the will. He took it for granted that Frank was sole
heir, and it did cross his mind more than once how very agreeable it
would be if he could be selected as guardian of the rich young heir. Of
course, he knew that there was no probability of it, since the
stepfather would undoubtedly be appointed to that position.

Mr. Tarbox had just sold a calico dress pattern to a poor woman, when
his attention was drawn to the entrance of Frank Courtney, who entered
his store, valise in hand.

Mr. Tarbox was rather short-sighted, and did not immediately recognize
the son of his rich cousin.

"What can I do for you, young man?" he asked, in his business tone.

"This is Mr. Tarbox, I believe?" said Frank, who did not know his
relatives very well.

"Yes, that is my name."

"I am Frank Courtney."

"Bless my soul!" ejaculated Mr. Tarbox, surprised and delighted. "When
did you arrive in Newark?"

"I have only just arrived."

"I do hope you are going to make us a visit," said Mr. Tarbox,
cordially.

"Thank you!" answered Frank, cheered by this warm reception. "If you are
sure it won't inconvenience you."

"Inconvenience me! We shall be delighted to have you with us."

"You must come up and see Mrs. Tarbox. She will be delighted to see
you."

Mr. Tarbox lived over his store. There was a door from the street
adjoining the shop front. Mr. Tarbox opened it with a pass-key, and
conducted Frank upstairs, ushering him into a gloomy parlor, with stiff,
straightbacked chairs, ranged at regular