know a lot of things I want." Dick was walking about excitedly. He had visions of a big automobile and a fine motor boat, two things his father, up to the present, had not allowed him to own.

"One of the provisions of the will," went on Mr. Hamilton, "is that on this date there is to be placed a large sum to your credit in the local national bank, of which you know I am president. You will be given a check book and allowed to draw upon it as you please, subject, as I said before, to certain reasonable restrictions on my part."

"Where is the check book?" asked Dick. "I've always wanted to have one."

"Not so fast," continued his father, with a smile. "You must first go to the bank and be identified by the proper officials, and also leave your signature there. Then you shall have the check book, Dick. But there is another matter," and Mr. Hamilton turned to the second page of the document in his hand.

Dick's heart sank. Perhaps, after all, he was not to have the wealth with which his imagination was already building fairy castles in the air.

"In case you fail to make this paying investment," went on Mr. Hamilton, "not only do you lose control of the money for a long time, but you have to undergo a sort of penance. It is this. You will have to go and live with your Uncle Ezra Larabee at Dankville——"

"Uncle Ezra!" exclaimed Dick, and his face fell.

"Yes, your Uncle Ezra and Aunt Samanthy. You will have to remain in their charge for a certain period and attend any boarding school they may select for you. That is done to teach you the value of money, and I think, from what I know of your Uncle Ezra, it will be a good place to learn," and Mr. Hamilton smiled rather grimly.

"In order that you may fully appreciate the situation, your mother has provided," proceeded Dick's father, "that you are to spend a week with your Uncle Ezra, beginning to-morrow. Her idea was that you should get better acquainted with her only brother, who, as you may have heard, is quite well off, and one of the wisest men in the matter of money I ever met. He is very conservative about investments, but he makes them pay. Your dear mother thought it would be a good school for you, and I have no doubt but what you will see that for yourself if you spend a week with him. If you should not be able, in the year, to make the paying investment, you will, of course, pass under the control of Mr. Larabee.

"I think I have now told you enough for the present. As I said, there are other provisions in the will regarding you, but we can discuss them when the time comes. I have written to your uncle, and he expects you to-morrow.

"Now, Dick, my son, having gotten this somewhat sad business over—for it makes me sad to recall your dear mother, and the careful way she made provision that you should grow up to be a wise and good man—I think we will have a little lunch. I am hungry and I think you are, so I arranged a little birthday dinner for you."

Mr. Hamilton led the way to the large dining room, where, upon the mahogany table, cut glass and silver sparkled in profusion. There were places for two and, as soon as father and son entered, a solemn butler rang a chiming bell, and servants brought in a dainty but bountiful meal.

"Roast duck!" exclaimed Dick, as he caught sight of it. "That's like you, dad, to remember how fond I am of it. And I'll bet he's ordered frozen pudding for dessert; hasn't he, Mary?" turning to the smiling maid who was arranging some dishes on the sideboard.

"That he has, Master Dick," was the reply.

"Well, I thought I'd give you a good meal before you went to Uncle Ezra's house," said Mr. Hamilton, with a queer smile. "You may not get—But there, Dick, I wish you all the luck in the world, and may we both be as happy on your next birthday," and Mr. Hamilton stood up and gravely shook hands with his son.

"Um," murmured Dick. "Maybe I'll be at Uncle Ezra's a year from now—if I don't make that paying investment. I wonder what sort of a place he has, anyhow? Well, there's no use worrying now. I must take some of that roast duck while it's hot," and he began to investigate his well-filled plate with no little interest.

"You leave for your uncle's on the eight o'clock train to-morrow morning," said Mr. Hamilton. "Have your things all packed to-night, and don't be late, for your uncle is a very particular man—a—very—particular—man," and again that grim smile came over Mr. Hamilton's face; a smile which puzzled Dick. But he was to know the meaning of it soon enough.

CHAPTER III

UNCLE EZRA THREATENS

Dick had not paid a visit to his Uncle Ezra since he could remember. He dimly recalled being there when a small boy, and had a hazy memory of a fine big house, but very gloomy, standing in the midst of large grounds that seemed more like a cemetery than anything else. Of his uncle and aunt he had but a faint recollection, and when he stood on the depot platform the next morning, waiting for his train, he was in no very happy frame of mind.

For Dick liked fun, and jolly companions, and did not relish being sent off to visit relatives who were almost strangers to him, even though Mr. Larabee was his mother's only brother.

"I don't fancy I'm going to have a very good time," mused the youth, as the train was whizzing him along toward Dankville. "Still, I'm going to fulfill the conditions of the will as far as I can. Make a paying investment, eh? I wonder if I can do it? But, of course, I can. I'll buy some building lots, stocks or bonds, and sell 'em at a profit. I'll do it as soon as I get home, and then I'll not have to worry about the matter any more," he added lightly, as if making money was the easiest thing in the world.

Dankville was a country village about a hundred miles from Hamilton Corners. When Dick alighted at the station he looked around in some surprise. The place seemed to be absolutely deserted. There was no one in sight but the station agent, and, as soon as the train pulled out, he disappeared into his office.

"Not a very pleasant reception," mused Dick, as he sat down on the upturned end of his dress-suit case. "Not exactly a brass band out to meet me. I wonder how I get to Uncle Ezra's place? Guess I'll ask the man."

He started toward the ticket office, but, as he approached it, he saw a carriage driving up to the platform. In the vehicle sat an elderly man with a little tuft of white chin whiskers, which moved to and fro in a curious manner every time he spoke to the horse, which was frequently necessary, as the animal seemed to need much urging to induce it to continue its journey.

"Whoa!" exclaimed the man, though there was no occasion for the command, as the horse was glad enough to stop. "Are you Richard Hamilton, son of Mortimer Hamilton?"

"I'm Dick. Are you Uncle Ezra?"

"Dick!" fairly snorted the elderly man. "You're Richard, that's what you were christened and that's what you must be called! I can't abide nicknames and I won't have 'em. You're Richard, do you hear?"

"Yes, sir," answered Dick, meekly enough, though there was an angry light in his eyes.

"Now, then, Richard, you've come to visit us for a certain purpose," went on his uncle. "What it is we needn't discuss now. The train was a little ahead of time or I'd been here sooner." Mr. Larabee did not seem to think that he might be a little late. "I always make it a point to be on time," he added. "Now, jump in. Your aunt has a meal ready and she musn't be kept waiting. I want you to understand from the start that everything is done on time in my house. We rise at a certain hour, and we have our