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, w