ought, indignantly. But with a
stern resolve to be patient, he seated himself.

"Look here, George, as this is likely to be a long session, let's have a
little more of a blaze here. I got chilled through, waiting for that
door to open. Ah, that's something like!"

Meanwhile this cordial person, carefully selecting suitable pieces from
the wood-basket on the hearth, and rearranging the fire, had seized the
bellows and begun to blow vigorously, nearly shutting up his long
figure, like a big clasp-knife, in the act.

"Excuse my making myself at home," he continued, jauntily poking a small
log into place with the bellows, and then brushing his seedy trousers
with his hand; "it was always my style. Most men that's been knocked
about all their lives get shy and wary. But that's not Eben Slade. Well,
when are you going to begin?"

"I am ready now, Mr. Slade."

"Pshaw! Don't Mr. Slade me. Call me Eben, plain Eben. Just as Kate did."

Mr. Reed's face flushed painfully.

"See here, George," the visitor went on, suddenly changing his sportive
style to a manner that was designed to appear quite confidential and
friendly,--"see here, I don't want to quarrel with you nor any other
man. This here is just a chat between two almost relatives--sort of
left-handed brothers, you know, and for my--"

"Slade!" exclaimed Mr. Reed, savagely, rising from his chair, but at
once seating himself again, and speaking with forced calmness: "While I
have allowed you this interview, I must request you to understand, now
and for all time, as you have understood very plainly heretofore, that
there can be no connection or implied relationship between us. For
years we have been as strangers, and from this night must remain so!"

"Ex--actly!" assented Slade, cheerily--"the kind of strangers two chaps
naturally would be, having the same sister--my sister by blood, yours by
adoption."

Certainly this was a strong point with Mr. Slade, for he leaned forward
and looked boldly into the other's face, as he finished the sentence.

"Yes," said Mr. Reed, with a solemn dignity, "precisely such strangers
as the scape-grace brother of a noble girl must be to those who rescued
this girl in her earliest childhood, sheltered her, taught her, honored
and loved her as true brothers should, and to whom she clung with all a
sister's fondness and loyalty."

"Pre--cisely!" observed Mr. Slade, with a mocking air of being deeply
impressed. "Go on."

"You know the