I folded up the letters and put them into my pocket. I had learned much from them. Norton Bixby was my real uncle’s cousin; Yates had done me the injury of appearing in my coat during the evening at Bayport, and raised the impression that I was in town; and my father was no more.
I continued on my way slowly. So absorbed was I, that when I approached the mill I did not notice a stranger standing by the door, and when he spoke to me I started at his voice.
“Is this the Stones’ mill?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I replied; “and I am Reuben Stone.”
“Indeed!” He looked at me in a kindly way. “Give me your hand,” he went on; “I am your uncle, Enos Norton, just arrived from the West.”
CHAPTER XXXII.
A WELCOME ARRIVAL.
I could hardly believe the evidence of my senses. This tall, well-dressed gentleman my uncle! It was welcome news indeed.
“You are my uncle?” I repeated slowly.
“Yes. I haven’t been to the Bend in years; but you must have heard of me, Reuben?”