rking together, and it cost him
all of that to support his family."

"I have often wondered where he obtained money to go into business."

"I don't think there is any mystery about it."

"And you have been compelled to bear the consequences of his wrong-doing
while he has been living in luxury?" said Mary Barton bitterly.

"Yes; but mine is not a solitary case. Wickedness often flourishes in
this world. We must look to the future for compensation."

"Do you think you will ever be able to prove your innocence, Simeon?"

"It is all that I live for. If I can do that, we can live together
again. But tell me, before I go any further, how are you and the boy
getting along?"

"We are comfortable," answered Mary Barton briefly. She did not care to
add to her husband's anxieties by speaking of Bert's discharge.

"I wish I had some money to give you, but I only had enough to bring me
here and return."

"You had an object in coming?"

"Yes; there was a man who was employed by Weeks Brothers at the time of
the loss of the bonds. I learned some months since--it is not necessary
to explain how--that he could throw light on the long unsolved
mystery--that he knew the real thief. I am in search of him. Some time I
hope to find him, and make clear my innocence by the aid of his
testimony."

"Oh, Simeon, if you only could!" exclaimed Mrs. Barton, clasping her
hands.

"I shall try, at all events."

"I wonder if it would not be well to consult Uncle Jacob?"

"Uncle Jacob!" repeated Simeon Barton in surprise.

"Yes; I have not told you. He has returned from California, and is now
in New York."

"Have you seen him?"

"Yes; he spent a week at our house."

Mrs. Barton went on to give the particulars of Uncle Jacob's visit.

"He is a poor man," she concluded. "As I understand, he brought home but
five hundred dollars, but he is lucky enough to be employed in an office
in New York at a salary of twelve dollars a week."

"If I were earning that, and could hold up my head an honest man,
without a stain--an undeserved stain--upon my name, I should be happy."

"Can you tell me Uncle Jacob's address?" he asked, after a pause. "I
don't think I shall venture to call upon him, for I am subject to arrest
on the old charge, as you know, and the New York detectives are sharp,
but I might write to him and ask his advice. But stay! he thinks me
dead, does he not?"

"Yes."

"And Bert--is that what you still call him?--he still th