Mrs. Hill looked grave. She did not fancy this speech.
"I don't think we shall have to wait so long," she said. "When you are twenty-one Cousin Hamilton will probably do something for you."
"That's almost five years," grumbled Conrad.
"At any rate we have got Ben Barclay out of the house, that's one comfort."
"Yes, I am glad of that; but I'd rather be in my old place than this, if I am to get only five dollars a week."
"Young people are so impatient," sighed Mrs. Hill. "You don't seem to consider that it isn't alone taking Ben's place, but you have got rid of a dangerous rival for the inheritance."
"That's true," said Conrad, "and I hated Ben. I'd rather any other boy would cut me out than he."
"Do you know what has become of him?"
"No; I expect that he has gone back to the country—unless he's blacking boots or selling papers downtown somewhere. By Jove, I'd like to come across him with a blacking-brush. He used to put on such airs. I would like to have heard Cousin Hamilton give him the grand bounce."
Nothing could be more untrue than that Ben putting on airs, but Conrad saw him through the eyes of prejudice, and persuaded himself that such was the fact. In reality Ben was exceedingly modest and unassuming, and it was this among other things that pleased Mrs. Hamilton.