last hour, that she had married above her—which I believe she did.”
“Had your mother any relations?”
“None.”
“Think again.”
“Well, in a manner of speaking, there was one; but about him least said soonest mended; although he was her brother—that is, until she cast him off.”
“What was his name?”
“Benjamin. Although I do not remember ever hearing her mention it, and, indeed, she was opposed to speaking of him at all; I learned it was so through finding some letters of his in one of her boxes after she was dead, and those letters I have unto this day.”
“That is fortunate; because it is as the representative of Mr. Benjamin Batters that I am here.”
“Indeed? You don’t mean to say so. This is a surprise.”
And not a pleasant one either. I had heard of Mr. Benjamin Batters, though not for years and years, but never had I heard anything to his credit. A regular all-round bad lot he must have been, up to all sorts of tricks, and worse than tricks. I had reason to believe he had been in prison more than once, perhaps more than twice. When you have a relation like that, and have forgotten all about him, and are thankful to have been able to do it, you do not like to have him come flying, all of a sudden, in your face. I was not obliged to Mr. Paine for mentioning his name. If that was all he had to talk about I was sorry I had come.
“I may take it, then, that Mr. Benjamin Batters is an uncle of yours.”
“In a manner of speaking. Although, considering my mother, his sister, cast him off, and that I myself never set eyes upon the man, it is only by a figure of speech that you can call him so.”
