"As you say, I am in good luck. But I think I ought to get higher pay."
"It seems to me twelve dollars a week is a very good salary," said Mrs. Barton, soberly. "You could save something out of that if you were not so generous."
"I must think seriously of that, Mary. If I get mean and close-fisted, you mustn't be surprised. It will be only because I follow your advice."
"You can never become mean or close-fisted, Uncle Jacob. It isn't in your nature to be either. But I hope you will be reasonably economical, and not give away so much money to others."
"You are a good little woman, Mary," said Uncle Jacob, feelingly. "If you are ever blessed with means, you will do just as you advise me not to do. Don't be worried about me, Mary. God loves a cheerful giver, you know, and whatever I give to you is cheerfully given."
An hour was spent in conversation, and then, as Mr. Barton showed fatigue, he and Uncle Jacob retired to bed, and Mrs. Barton mixed some flour so as to be able to give her guests warm biscuits in the morning, for she remembered that her husband had been very fond of them in former years.
The next morning after breakfast Uncle Jacob took his departure.
"I leave you in good hands, John," he said to Mr. Barton. "Now, get well as fast as you can."
"There is one thing that will make me well," said Barton, "and that is, vindication from the false charge that has darkened my life and destroyed my happiness during the last ten years."
"That is coming, and coming soon," said Uncle Jacob. "Only be patient a little while. Bert has already made a discovery that makes it clear who is the real criminal."