, 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.

CHAPTER XXII

CONCLUSION

Meanwhile poor Grace had fared badly at the poorhouse in Crawford. It
was a sad contrast to the gentle and kindly circle at Mr. Pomeroy's.
What made it worse for Grace was, that she could hear nothing of Frank.
She feared he was sick, or had met with some great misfortune, which
prevented his writing.

One day a h