Scott was agreeably surprised. He thought his cousin would probably occupy a small hall bedroom, for he had been long enough in New York to know that lodgings were expensive. Everything looked comfortable. There was a lounge in one corner with the head toward the window.
"I lie down here when I feel lazy," said Mr. Lawton.
"Do you board here also, Cousin Seth?"
"Partially. I breakfast in the house, but it is more convenient to take my other meals outside."
Mr. Lawton's trunk was on one side of the fireplace. It was a substantial-looking trunk, somewhat the worse for wear.
"I have in my trunk, somewhere," he said, "a picture of your mother, taken at the age of twenty. Would you like to see it?"
"Very much," answered Scott, eagerly. "I have one taken a few months before she died, but she was in ill health then."
Seth Lawton opened the trunk and soon found a small photograph album. The second picture represented the attractive face of a young woman of twenty.
"Do you recognize it?" asked Seth.
"Yes," answered Scott, the tears coming to his eyes. "I wish I had one like it."