“Thank you, Uncle Obed, for your favorable opinion. I hope I shall deserve it.”
“You’re worth half a dozen boys like Philip Ross. I reckon he’ll never amount to much.”
“He doesn’t think so,” said Harry, smiling. “He thinks himself a very important character.”
“Like enough! He looks like it. He doesn’t care to own me as a relation.”
“It would be different if you were rich, Uncle Obed.”
“Mebbe so. I think so myself. Thank the Lord, I ain’t beholden to him or his family for any favors. They wanted to send me home to Illinoy. I was too unfashionable for them, I expect, but I’ve found a home—yes, I’ve found a good home.”
“I am glad we succeeded in making it comfortable for you, Mr. Wilkins,” said Mrs. Gilbert, looking up from her sewing.
“You do, ma’am,” said the old man. “I ain’t been so well taken care of for years as I am now. I wish I could do something to show my gratitude.”
“The money you pay us is of great service. It makes the largest part of our income. I am only afraid you pay too much.”
“No, I don’t,” said Uncle Obed. “Money isn’t of much vally, compared with a good home. If I ain’t as rich as my niece, I can afford to pay fair board. When a man’s turned seventy, as I have, the best money can do for him is to give him a happy home.”