"Wait a week, Mr. Talbot, and you may realize a few more points. Then you had better unload."
"I will be guided by your advice. I am sure it is for the best."
There was still, however, a feeling of uneasiness in the mind of Mr. Talbot, who knew very well that Mrs. Mason was the rightful owner of half the stock which he controlled. He decided to call on his sister in-law once more, and urge her to sign a paper releasing him from further liability as executor of her father's estate.
"I wonder whether Mark has got back," he said to himself. "If not, probably Ellen is very short of money. I will offer, if necessary, five hundred dollars for her signature. I don't think she can resist that."
Mrs. Mason had just finished washing her breakfast dishes when there was a knock at the door. Opening it, she saw the familiar face of Tom Trotter, dressed in the uniform of a Western Uniform telegraph boy.
"What, Tom!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Have you changed your business?"
"Yes, Mrs. Mason," answered Tom complacently. "I've give up blackin' boots, and now I'm a messenger boy like Mark."
"You look very nice in your uniform, Tom. There's another improvement I see."
"What is that, Mrs. Mason?"
"Your hands and face are both clean."