"I don't think it would be convenient," she said, coldly.
"It would be better for you to see Mrs. Barton at her own house," put in the squire, hastily.
"Well, perhaps it would."
"By the way, Uncle Jacob, I hope your experiences of California are pleasant," insinuated Squire Marlowe.
"They're mixed, Albert. I've had my ups and downs."
"I have heard of large fortunes being made there," pursued the squire. "I suppose there's some truth in what we hear?"
"To be sure! Why, ten years from the time I went to the mines I had a hundred thousand dollars deposited to my credit in a Sacramento bank."
Squire Marlowe's eyes sparkled with pleasure. It was just what he had been hoping to find out. So Uncle Jacob was rich, after all! The squire's manner became even more gracious, and he pressed upon his relative another plate of ice cream.
"No, thank you, Albert," said the old man. "I'm used to plain livin'. It isn't often I sit down to a meal like this. Do you know, there's nothing suits me better than a dinner of corned beef and cabbage."
"How vulgar the old man is!" thought Mrs. Marlowe. "He may have money, but his tastes are very common."