“One thing more. I think you had better call me uncle. The name will give you a claim upon me in the eyes of the world, and moreover, I shall be proud of such a spirited young nephew.”
“All right, uncle,” said Tom, smiling.
CHAPTER XLII
TOM’S RETURN.
MR. ARMSTRONG sat in his counting-room deep in thought. An arrangement had been made with his creditors by which he was allowed to go on. It was his ambition to repay them their confidence by paying all claims upon him dollar for dollar. But he found it up-hill work. His resources were contracted, and success was, to say the least, problematical. This was the reason of his present abstraction. He was anxiously considering what measures to adopt in order to facilitate the attainment of the end he had in view.
“If I only had the eighty thousand dollars’ worth of securities that scoundrelly clerk robbed me of,” he said to himself, “all would be well. I could clear off all liabilities to-day, and start afresh with the most encouraging chances of success. But I suppose there isn’t one chance in a hundred of my ever recovering a cent from that source.”
Just then an intimate friend, Hugh Osborn, entered.
“You seem in a brown study, Armstrong,” he said.
“Yes; I was thinking about my affairs.”