Dick," answered the millionaire. "No, Ezra, I have made up my mind. Dick shall have a chance to see the world—or, at least, part of it. As soon as he comes home I'll tell him of his mother's plan"
Dick thought it time to make his presence known. He rattled the knob of the library door, and heard a start of surprise from within. Then he entered.
"Hello, dad!" he exclaimed, fairly rushing up to Mr. Hamilton, and clasping his two hands in an eager grip. "How are you. Uncle Ezra?"
"Why, Dick, my boy!" cried the rich man, heartily, "I didn't expect you so soon. Oh, but I am glad to see you! It's like old times to have you back! Where's Grit?" And he clapped his son on the back more like some fellow-cadet than a father.
"I—I left Grit outside, dad."
"Have you got that miserable dog yet?" demanded Uncle Ezra, giving Dick one finger to shake, and that rather grudgingly.
"Grit is outside, Uncle. I knew you didn't like him, and"
"Like him? I should say not! Why that critter eats as much as a horse, and doesn't do a stroke of work to pay for his keep."
"Well, Dick, how are you?" asked his father, holding him off at arm's length, to get a better view. "My, but you've grown, though you're a little pale."
