"I don't fancy I'm going to have a very good time," mused the youth, as the train was whizzing him along toward Dankville. "Still, I'm going to fulfill the conditions of the will as far as I can. Make a paying investment, eh? I wonder if I can do it? But, of course, I can. I'll buy some building lots, stocks or bonds, and sell 'em at a profit. I'll do it as soon as I get home, and then I'll not have to worry about the matter any more," he added lightly, as if making money was the easiest thing in the world.
Dankville was a country village about a hundred miles from Hamilton Corners. When Dick alighted at the station he looked around in some surprise. The place seemed to be absolutely deserted. There was no one in sight but the station agent, and, as soon as the train pulled out, he disappeared into his office.
"Not a very pleasant reception," mused Dick, as he sat down on the upturned end of his dress-suit case. "Not exactly a brass band out to meet me. I wonder how I get to Uncle Ezra's place? Guess I'll ask the man."
He started toward the ticket office, but, as he approached it, he saw a carriage driving up to the platform. In the vehicle sat an elderly man with a little tuft of white chin whiskers, which moved to and fro in a curious manner every time he spoke to the horse, which was frequently necessary, as the animal seemed to need much urging to induce it to continue its journey.
"Whoa!" exclaimed the man, though there was no occasion for the command, as the horse was glad enough to stop. "Are you Richard Hamilton, son of Mortimer Hamilton?"
"I'm Dick. Are you Uncle Ezra?"
"Dick!" fairly snorted the elderly man. "You're Richard, that's what you were christened and that's what you must be called! I can't abide nicknames and I won't have 'em. You're Richard, do you hear?"
"Yes, sir," answered Dick, meekly enough, though there was an angry light in his eyes.
"Now, then, Richard, you've come to visit us for a certain purpose," went on his uncle. "What it is we needn't discuss now. The train was a little ahead of time or I'd been here sooner." Mr. Larabee did not seem to think that he might be a little late. "I always make it a point to be on time," he added. "Now, jump in. Your aunt has a meal ready and she musn't be kept waiting. I want you to understand from the start that everything is done on time in my house. We rise at a certain hour, and we have our meals at certain hours. Folks that come to see us have to do as we do or they don't get any meals. I hope you understand that."
"Yes, sir," replied Dick, his heart sinking down deeper than ever. It was worse than he had thought. Still the idea of a meal, after his long ride, seemed good.