"Whatever you like. But here's my step-son coming in."
"The young man I'm to take charge of. I must ingratiate myself with him."
Here Frank entered the room. He paused when he saw the stranger.
"Frank," said Mr. Craven, "this is my friend, Colonel Sharpley. I believe you have already made his acquaintance."
"Yes, sir, I saw him this morning."
"I didn't suspect when I first spoke to you that you were related to my old friend, Craven," said Sharpley, smiling.
Mr. Sharpley was a man not overburdened—in fact, not burdened at all—with principle, but he could make himself personally more agreeable than Mr. Craven, nor did Frank feel for him the instinctive aversion which he entertained for his step-father. The stranger had drifted about the world, and, being naturally intelligent and observing, he had accumulated a fund of information which enabled him to make himself agreeable to those who were unacquainted with his real character. He laid himself out now to entertain Frank.
"Ah, my young friend," he said, "how I envy you your youth and hope. I am an old, battered man of the world, who has been everywhere, seen a great deal, and yet, in all the wide world, I am without a home."
"Have you traveled much, sir," asked Frank.