In the morning after Dr. Townley’s visit to Boston, our hero knocked at the doctor’s front door.

“Is Dr. Townley at home?” he asked.

“Yes, Andy,” said the doctor, who overheard the inquiry.  “Come right in.  You’re just the boy I want to see.”

Andy entered, twirling his hat awkwardly in his hand.

“Good-morning, Andy,” said the doctor, cordially.  “Take a seat.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Andy, but did not sit down.

“What is the matter?  You are looking rather blue this morning.”

“Faith, doctor, and that’s the way I feel entirely.”

“You’re not sick, are you?  Let me feel your pulse.”

“No, I’m not sick, but it’s discouraged I am.”

“Why should a stout boy in good health be discouraged?”

“I can’t get any work to do, and I’m afraid we’ll all starve.”

“It strikes me,” said the doctor, fixing his eyes on Andy, enjoying the effect of his intended announcement, “that I wouldn’t talk of starving, if I were as rich as you are, Andy.”

“As rich as me?” echoed Andy.  “Shure, doctor, you’re jokin’.”

“Not at all.”

“Why, I haven’t got but seventy-five cents in the world.”

“Now it’s you that are joking, Andy.”

“I wish I was,” sighed Andy.

“Why, I had it on good authority that you were worth five thousand dollars.”

Andy stared in earnest.

“I see you’re laughin’ at me, doctor,” he said, suspecting that Dr. Townley was making game of him.

“No, I am not.  I am in earnest.”

“Who told you such a big falsehood as that, now?” asked our hero, bewildered.

“Perhaps I dreamed that somebody told me Colonel Preston had left you five thousand dollars in his will.”

“Are you jokin’?  Is it true?” asked Andy, eagerly, something in the doctor’s face telling him that he really meant what he said.

“Maybe I dreamed, too, that the colonel left your mother the house she used to live in.”

“Is it true, doctor?  Tell me, quick!” said Andy, trembling with excitement.

“Yes, my boy, it’s all true, and I’m glad to be the first to congratulate you on your good fortune.”

He held out his hand, which our hero seized, and then, unable to repress his exultation, threw up his cap to the ceiling and indulged in an extempore dance, the doctor meanwhile looking on with benevolent gratification.

“Excuse me, doctor; I couldn’t help it,” he panted.

“It’s all right, Andy.  Are you discouraged now?”

“Divil a bit, doctor.  It’s wild I am with joy.”

“And you don’t think of starving yet, eh, Andy?”

“I’ll wait a bit.  But why didn’t I know before?”

“Sit down, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

So Andy heard the account, which need not be repeated.

“Now,” continued the doctor, “I’ll tell you what plan I have for you.  Mr. Graves wants to take a boy into his store who will buy an interest in the business and become his partner.  He thinks well of you, and is willing to take you.  What do you say?”