"How do you know?"
"He told me that he had twenty thousand dollars' worth of mining stock out West somewhere, besides owning a house in New York."
Frank looked astonished.
"If he has as much property as that," he said, "I don't see what makes him come here. I don't believe his business brings him in three hundred dollars a year."
"That's the very reason, Frank. He has money enough, and doesn't mind if business is dull. He generously offered to pay—or was it help pay?—the expenses of your education; but I told him that you didn't need it."
"If I did, I wouldn't take it from him. But what you tell me surprises me, mother. He doesn't look as if he was worth five hundred dollars in the world. What made him tell you all this?"
"He said that some people would accuse him of being a fortune-hunter, and he wanted to convince me that he was not one."
"It may be a true story, and it may not," said Frank.
"You are really very unjust, Frank," said his mother. "I don't pretend to love Mr. Craven, and he doesn't expect it, but I am sure he has been very kind, and he takes a great deal of interest in you, and you will learn to know him better."