Mr. Wake, Mr. Wade, and other friends, congratulated him on the happy termination of the affair; and while they were so engaged the elderly man elbowed his way through the crowd to the place where Harry stood.
"Young man, what is your father's name?" he asked, in tones tremulous with emotion.
"I have no father," replied Harry.
"You had a father—what was his name?"
"Franklin West; a carpenter by trade. He went from Redfield to Valparaiso when I was very young, and we never heard anything from him."
"My son!" exclaimed the stranger, grasping our hero by the hand, while the tears rolled down his brown visage.
Harry did not know what to make of this announcement.
"Is it possible that you are my father?" asked he.
"I am, Harry; but I was sure you were dead. I got a letter, informing me that your mother and the baby had gone; and about a year after I met a man from Rockville who told me that you had died also."
"It was a mistake."