dsome dog," said his father, as the groom
assisted him to alight.

"It must be, a long time ago. I hope my cousin is better-looking than
his dog."

"Why, what in the world have we got here?" said Mrs. Paisley, the
housekeeper, who came to the door to welcome her master home; and into
whose capacious arms the footman placed the sleeping Anthony, enveloped
in his uncle's cloak.

"A present for you, Mrs. Paisley," said Algernon, "and one that I hope
you will regard with peculiar care."

"A child!" screamed the good woman. "Why, la, sir; how did you come by
it?"

"Honestly," returned Algernon, laughing.

"Let _me_ look at him," cried the eager Godfrey, as soon as they entered
the room where supper was prepared for his father; and pulling the cloak
away from his cousin's face,--"Is this dirty shabby boy the playfellow
you promised me, papa?"

"The same."

"And he in rags!"

"That's no fault of his, my child."

"And has a torn cap, and no shoes!"

"Mrs. Paisley will soon wash, and dress, and make him quite smart; and
then you will be proud of him."

"Well, we shall see," replied the boy, doubtingly. "But I never was fond
of playing with dirty ragged children. But why is he dirty and ragged? I
thought you told me, papa, that he was the son of my rich, rich uncle,
and that he would have twice as much money as I?"

"And so he will."

"Then why is he in this condition?"

"His father is a miser."

"What is that?"

"A man that loves money better than his son; who would rather see him
ragged and dirty, nay even dead, than expend upon his comfort a part of
his useless riches. Are you not glad that your father is not a miser?"

"I don't know," said Godfrey; "he would save money to make me rich, and
when he died all his wealth would be mine. Anthony is not so badly off
after all, and I think I will try to love him, that he may give me a
part of his great fortune by-and-by."

"Your love, springing from a selfish motive, would not be worth having.
Besides, Godfrey, you will have a fortune of your own."

"I'm not so clear of that," said the boy, with a sly glance at his
father. "People say that you will spend all your money on yourself, and
leave none for me when _you_ die."

There was much--too much truth in this remark; and though Algernon
laughed at what he termed his dear boy's wit, it stung him deeply.
"Where can he have learned that?" he thought; "such an idea could never
have entered into the heart of