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asked Mr. Graves, startled.

"I feel sure of it. Let me predict also that she will not contest this will. She is afraid to."

And the doctor was right.







CHAPTER XXXVI — ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

Andy was quite unconscious of the good fortune which had come to him. Though a manly and stout-hearted boy, he was, in fact, getting discouraged. He was willing and anxious to work, but there seemed to be no work for him to do. He would have left home some time since to try his fortune elsewhere, but for the entreaties of his mother, who didn't like to lose him.

In the morning after Dr. Townley's visit to Boston, our hero knocked at the doctor's front door.

"Is Dr. Townley at home?" he asked.

"Yes, Andy," said the doctor, who overheard the inquiry. "Come right in. You're just the boy I want to see."

Andy entered, twirling his hat awkwardly in his hand.

"Good-morning, Andy," said the doctor, cordially. "Take a seat."

"Thank you, sir," said Andy, but did not sit down.

"What is the matter? You are looking rather blue this morning."

"Faith, doctor, and that's the way I feel entirely."

"You're not sick, are you? Let me feel your pulse."

"No, I'm not sick, but it's discouraged I am."

"Why should a stout boy in good health be discouraged?"

"I can't get any work to do, and I'm afraid we'll all starve."

"It strikes me," said the doctor, fixing his eyes on Andy, enjoying the effect of his intended announcement, "that I wouldn't talk of starving, if I were as rich as you are, Andy."

"As rich as me?" echoed Andy. "Shure, doctor, you're jokin'."

"Not at all."

"Why, I haven't got but seventy-five cents in the world."

"Now it's you that are joking, Andy."

"I wish I was," sighed Andy.

"Why, I had it on good authority that you were worth five thousand dollars."

Andy stared in earnest.

"I see you're laughin' at me, doctor," he said, suspecting that Dr. Townley was making game of him.

"No, I am not. I am in earnest."

"Who told you such a big falsehood as that, now?" asked our hero, bewildered.

"Perhaps I dreamed that somebody told me Colonel Preston had left you five thousand dollars in his will."

"Are you jokin'? Is it true?" asked Andy, eagerly, something in the doctor's face telling him that he really meant what he said.

"Maybe I dreamed, too, that the colonel left your mother the house she used to live in."

"Is it true, doctor? Tell me, quick!" said Andy, trembling with excitement.

"Yes, my boy, it's all true, and I'm glad to be the first to congratulate you on your good fortune."

He held out his hand, which our hero seized, and then, unable to repress his exultation, threw up his cap to the ceiling and indulged in an extempore dance, the doctor meanwhile looking on with benevolent gratification.

"Excuse me, doctor; I couldn't help it," he panted.

"It's all right, Andy. Are you discouraged now?"

"Divil a bit, doctor. It's wild I am with joy."

"And you don't think of starving yet, eh, Andy?"

"I'll wait a bit. But why didn't I know before?"

"Sit down, and I'll tell you all about it."

So Andy heard the account, which need not be repeated.

"Now," continued the doctor, "I'll tell you what plan I have for you. Mr. Graves wants to take a boy into his store who will buy an interest in the business and become his partner. He thinks well of you, and is willing to take you. What do you say?"

"I'll do whatever you think best, doctor."

"Then I think this is a good opening for you. Mr. Graves wants to retire from business before long. Probably by the time you are twenty-one he will leave everything in your hands. You will be paid weekly wages and perhaps be entitled to a portion of the profits—more than enough to support you all comfortably. What do you say? Shall we have a new firm in the village?

"GRAVES & BURKE."

Andy's eyes sparkled with proud anticipation. It was so far above any dream he had ever formed.

"It's what I'd like above all things," he said. "Oh, what will mother say? I must go and tell her."

"Go, by all means, Andy, and when you have told her, come back, and I'll go over with you to Mr. Graves' store, and we'll talk over the arrangements with him."

Mrs. Burke's delight at her own success and that of Andy may be imagined. She, too, had been getting despondent, and it seemed almost like a fairy tale to find herself the owner of a house, and her boy likely to be taken into partnership with the principal trader in the village. She invoked blessings on the memory of Colonel Preston, through whose large-hearted generosity this had come to pass, but could not help speculating on what Mrs. Preston would say. She understood very well that she would be very angry.

Mrs. Preston did not dispute the will. She might have done so, but for her fear that her own criminal act would be brought to light. Godfrey, who was even more disturbed than she was at the success of "that low Irish boy," begged her to do it, but in this case she did not yield to his entreaties. She had never dared to take him into confidence respecting her destruction of the other will.

While we are upon this subject, we may as well trace out the future career of Mrs. Preston. Some years later she was induced, by the expectation of aiding her social standing, to marry an adventurer who appeared to be doing a flourishing business as a State Street broker. By spurious representations, he managed to get hold of her property, and to be appointed Godfrey's guardian. The result may be foreseen. He managed to spend or waste the whole and when Godfrey was twenty-one, he and his mother were penniless. Andy, who was now sole representative of the firm

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