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Newspaper Page Text
By Frank Filson.
Uncle Eustaceseemed to be as old
as the hills. He wasbout forty-five,
I suppose, but to a boy of twelve that
is an immense' age. He was very
ruddy, very gray and very clean-looking,
and slow and deliberate in all his
) movements. He used to come to
spend a week with us three or four
times a year. Uncle Eustace was
"Poor old Eustace," papa used to
say, after he wasgone, and there was
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"What Does Your Uncle Eustace
a sort of affectionate contempt in his
voice. "He'll never amount to any
thing." "I don't know, my dear," answered
mother. "He's getting along very
nicely now as bookkeeper for the
"Twenty dollars a week as book
keeper," answered papa, in contempt.
"But, my dear many respectable
people only earn twenty dollais a
week. You mustn't think everybody
can be like you, entering a broker's
office as an office boy and rising to a
salary of fifteen thousand at forty."
"I must admit the old man hasn't
treated Eustace any too well," said
I told Miss Penton that Uncle Eus
tace was coming to visit us for
Easter. Miss Penton seemed almost
as old as Uncle Eustace. She was a
sort of fixture in our town, too. She
had taught school since she was a
girl, and she had known Uncle Eus
tace and papa sirice they were boys.
Miss Penton always encouraged me
to tell her about my family, but some
how she never came to visit us, .
though papa always took off his hat
to her when they met.
And then a very strange thing-happened.
Grandfather Mortlock, papa's
father, died in his big house in far
away New York. I had never seen
him. He had got sort of crabby when
he grew old, and didn't care about
people. It was said that Uncle Eus
tace had embittered his life when he
was a boy by declining to go into his
business, and therefore grandfather
had cut him off with a dollar. Uncle
Eustace had just drifted through life.
At forty he was a broken man. Then
papa got him a position with the
Stearns-Rabbit people, and he had
stuck there and was "making good."
But, as papa would say, how can any
one "make good" at forty-five?
Well, Grandfather Mortlock died,
about two weeks before Easter. You
know how such a thing affects the
mind of a child. I cried all day, al
though I had never seen the old man.
Then, about five evenings later, I
heard papa talking about the will.
"Elizabeth," he said to mother,
"what do you think? The old man
has left Eustace a cool hundred thou
sand dollars, and only fifty thousand
apiece to the rest of us."
"You don't envy him, my dear?"
asked mother, slipping her hand into
"Envy him? I'm heartily glad," said