Bert greeted the stranger politely. As his hand rested for a moment in
the hand of Mr. Robinson, he felt the latter tremble.

"Do you remember your father, Herbert?" asked the supposed stranger.

"Not very well. He died when I was quite a young boy."

"True! It was indeed a long time since," murmured Robinson, with a sigh.

"Bert, I have invited Mr. Robinson to stay with us to-night. It is long
since I have seen him and we may not meet again for some time. He will
share your room."

"Certainly, mother."

They went together to the cottage. Mrs. Barton prepared some tea, and
they sat down to a slight meal.

"Oh, if it could only continue thus!" thought Simeon Barton, as he
looked wistfully at the wife and son from whom he had been so long
separated. "It is like a sight of the promised land."

"Do you know my mother's cousin, Albert Marlowe?" asked Bert, during the
evening.

"I used to know him some years ago."

"Shall you call upon him? He is a rich man now."

"I think not I never--liked--him much."

Bert laughed.

"Ditto for me!" he said. "He is a cold, selfish man. He is not popular
with his workmen."

"By the way, Bert," said his mother, "you need not mention Mr.
Robinson's visit. His business requires secrecy."

"All right, mother! I'll bear it in mind."

CHAPTER X.

STOLEN MONEY.

Saturday afternoon arrived, and with it came Bert's discharge from the
shoe shop. He put the four dollars in his pocket, and with a sober face
went home.

"There are my week's wages, mother," he said. "I don't know when I shall
have any more money to hand you."

"We won't borrow trouble to-night, Bert," responded Mrs. Barton,
concealing her solicitude under a cheerful exterior. "To-morrow is
Sunday, and we will defer all worldly anxieties till it is over."

"You are right, mother," said Bert, readily chiming in with her
cheerful humor. "I am young and strong, and there is plenty of work to
be done in the world."

"Keep up your courage, Bert, and you will be more likely to win
success."

When Sunday was over, however, Bert felt that he must begin to look
about him. But the more he looked the more downhearted he became. He
went to the village store, having heard that the boy employed there was
about to leave. After buying a pound of sugar for his mother, he
ventured to say, "Mr. Jones, don't you want to hire a boy?"

"Why should I want to hire a boy?" asked the store-keeper, in a tone of
surprise.

"