“But you see, Wilbur, I don’t adore anybody.  I am not in love as you are.”

“Of course that makes a difference,” said Wilbur.  “I’m glad I came, Phil.  Ain’t you?”

“Yes,” answered Phil slowly.

“You see, it’s such a satisfaction to know that all is coming right at last.  I am to marry her, you know, and although it isn’t till I am twenty-four——­”

“She will be nearly thirty by that time,” said Phil slyly.

“She won’t look it!” said Mr. Wilbur, wincing a little.  “When I am thirty I shall be worth twenty thousand dollars.”

“You can’t save it very soon out of six dollars a week.”

“That is true.  I feel sure I shall be raised soon.  Did the fortune-teller say anything about your getting rich?”

“No.  I can’t remember that she did.  Oh, yes! she said I would make my fortune, but not in the way I expected.”

“That is queer!” said Mr. Wilbur, interested.  “What could she mean?”

“I suppose she meant that I would not save a competence out of five dollars a week.”

“Maybe so.”

“I have been thinking, Wilbur, you have an advantage over the young lady you are to marry.  You know that you are to marry her, but she doesn’t know who is to be her husband.”

“That is true,” said Wilbur seriously.  “If I can find out her name, I will write her an anonymous letter, asking her to call on the veiled Lady.”

CHAPTER XVI.

Mrs. Brent’s strange temptation.

Now that Phil is fairly established in the city, circumstances require us to go back to the country town which he had once called home.

Mrs. Brent is sitting, engaged with her needle, in the same room where she had made the important revelation to Phil.

Jonas entered the house, stamping the snow from his boots.

“Is supper most ready, mother?” he asked.

“No, Jonas; it is only four o’clock,” replied Mrs. Brent.

“I’m as hungry as a bear.  I guess it’s the skating.”

“I wish you would go to the post-office before supper, Jonas.  There might be a letter.”

“Do you expect to hear from Phil?”

“He said nothing about writing,” said Mrs. Brent indifferently.  “He will do as he pleases about it.”

“I did’nt know but he would be writing for money,” chuckled Jonas.

“If he did, I would send him some,” said Mrs. Brent.

“You would!” repeated Jonas, looking at his mother in surprise.

“Yes, I would send him a dollar or two, so that people needn’t talk.  It is always best to avoid gossip.”

“Are you expecting a letter from anybody, mother?” asked Jonas, after a pause.

“I dreamed last night I should receive an important letter,” said Mrs. Brent.

“With money in it?” asked Jonas eagerly.

“I don’t know.”