CHAPTER XXXII.
JACOB WINTER.
Leaving Ben for a time, we go back to his old home to inquire how his mother and stepfather were faring. Mr. Winter seemed to grow meaner as he grew older. His wife often asked herself how she could have been so foolish as to marry him. All she had gained by it was a home for herself, but her clothing she was obliged to purchase at her own expense.
One day Mr. Winter went to her with a smile upon his face. Some one had handed him a copy of a New York paper in which an account was given of the robbery of an employer by a boy named Bruce.
“You see now what your model boy has come to,” he said triumphantly.
Mrs. Winter read the paragraph carefully.
“That boy isn’t Ben,” she said decisively.
“Oh, no,” sneered Jacob Winter, “of course it isn’t Ben.”
“Certainly not. Don’t you see that the age of this Bruce is given at nineteen.”
“No doubt that is a mistake. Mistakes are often made about ages. Besides Ben is tall and well grown, and could easily pass for nineteen.”