“Well,” Mr. Havens said in a moment, “if you boys like Sam, we’ll take him along. We have room for one more in the party.”
“And that brings us down to business!” exclaimed Jimmie. “Right here,” he went on, “is where we want you to turn on the spot light. We’ve had so many telegrams referring to trouble that we’re beginning to think that Trouble is our middle name!”
“Perhaps we would better wait until Mellen and Sam return,” suggested Mr. Havens. “That will save telling the story two or three times.”
“Is Sam Weller really his name?” asked Jimmie.
“I don’t think so,” answered Havens. “I think it is merely a name he selected out of the Pickwick Papers. While in my employ on Long Island several people who knew him by another name called to visit with him. Now and then I questioned these visitors, but secured little information.”
“Perhaps he’s a Pittsburg Millionaire or a Grand Duke in disguise!” suggested Carl. “And again,” the boy went on, “he may be merely the black sheep in some very fine family.”
“There’s something a little strange about the boy,” Mr. Havens agreed, “but I have never felt myself called upon to examine into his antecedents.”
“Here he comes now!” cried Carl. “With a new suit of clothes on his back and a smile lying like a benediction all over his clean shave!”
The boys were glad to see that the millionaire greeted Sam as an old friend. For his part, Sam extended his hand to his former employer and answered questions as if he had left his employ with strong personal letters of recommendation to every crowned head in the world!
“And now for the story,” Mellen said after all were seated.