"I don't think I know you," he said. "Do you live in the village?"

 

"No, sir. I was sent here from the East."

 

Thomas Nixon looked puzzled.

 

"Are you going to school?"

 

"No, sir. I was sent here to see you."

 

"To see me? I don't understand."

 

"Do you remember writing a letter to Mr. John Nugent, of Portville?"

 

"Yes; but surely——"

 

"I have a copy of your letter here, which I will show you. You wished Mr. Nugent to send a messenger to represent him and assist you in any way you might desire."

 

"But," exclaimed the old man, in astonishment¹, "I didn't expect him to send a boy."

 

"This letter will explain to you why he sent me."

 

"Read it to me. I cannot see without my glasses."

 

Gerald drew the letter from the envelope, and read as follows:

 

"Mr. Nixon,

"I need not say that I was surprised to receive your letter. I supposed you dead long ago. I am glad to hear that you are alive, and are in such a creditable state of mind. When you appropriated our funds, you injured yourself more than you did us. I am sure you have regretted it many times.

"I cannot go out to see you as I would if I were younger and stronger, for I am getting to be an old man, and I am feeble, besides being a victim of rheumatism². As to sending a messenger, I was at first greatly in doubt whom I could select. Finally I fixed³ upon Gerald Lane, whose late father I knew well. He is only a boy, but he possesses as much good judgment⁴ as many men ten years older. Besides, he is thoroughly⁵ honest and reliable. I place him at your service, with full power to act for me, and I will pay his expenses. When you know him as well as I do, you will learn to trust him as much as I do.

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