"And now, I have got a surprise for you, Uncle Peter," cried Jack,
smothering his eagerness as best he could.
The old fellow held up his hand, reached for the shabby, dust-
begrimed bottle, that had been sound asleep under the sidewalk for
years; filled Jack's glass, then his own; settled himself in his
chair and said with a dry smile:
"If it's something startling, Jack, wait until we drink this," and
he lifted the slender rim to his lips. "If it's something
delightful, you can spring it now."
"It is both," answered Jack. "Listen and doubt your ears. I had a
letter from Uncle Arthur this morning asking me to come and see
him about my Cumberland ore property, and I have just spent an
hour with him."
Peter put down his glass:
"You had a letter from Arthur Breen--about--what do you mean,
Jack."
"Just what I say."
Peter moved close to the table, and looked at the boy in
wonderment.
"Well, what did he want?" He was all attention now. Arthur Breen
sending for Jack!--and after all that had happened! Well--well!
"Wants me to put the Cumberland ore property father left me into
one of his companies.
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