“I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Huet, smiling, “but I don’t think a young gentleman worth ten thousand dollars can truthfully say he has no money. I hope, Robert, you are not growing mean.”
“Ten thousand dollars!” ejaculated Robert, his eyes wide open with amazement.
“Certainly.”
“I don’t understand you, Mr. Huet.”
“Then perhaps you will understand this.”
Mr. Huet handed Robert a slip of paper, which proved to be a check on the Merchants’ Bank, of Boston, for the sum of ten thousand dollars, payable to Robert Coverdale or order. It was signed by Gilbert Huet.
“You see, you are rich, Robert,” said Julian, smiling with joy at his friend’s good fortune.
“Oh, Mr. Huet, I don’t deserve this,” said Robert, his heart full.
“You must let me judge of that, my dear boy. Say no more or you will be depreciating Julian’s value. You have restored him to me, and I consider him worth much more than ten thousand dollars.”
Of course, Robert joyfully accepted the munificent gift so cordially offered. By Mr. Huet’s advice, he invested the money in good dividend-paying securities and monthly sent his aunt twenty-five dollars, which, with the rent, made her quite easy in her circumstances.