tively poor and wished to marry the widow so that he could get his hands on the fortune which the lady held in trust for her only child.
"It is Crabtree," said Dick, as he gave a look.
"I wonder how he liked his trip to Chicago?" laughed Sam. " Perhaps the Mid-West National College didn't suit his lofty ideas."
"Hush! don't let him hear you talk of that," returned Dick. "He might get us into trouble."
"What kind of soup, sah?" interrupted the waiter, and then they broke off to give their order, and the waiter hurried off to fill it.
"I'd like to know if he has been around the Stanhope cottage again," mused Dick, as he sipped his soup.
"Dick can't bear to think of anybody around Dora," laughed Tom.
"I don't want him around," retorted the elder Rover, growing red in the face. "He wants the Stanhopes' money and that's all he does want. I don't believe he really loves Mrs. Stanhope."
"But why does she encourage him?" came from Sam. "Why don't she send him about his business?"
"Oh, she is sickly, as you know, and he seems to have a peculiar hypnotic influence over her— at least, that's what Dora thinks. If I— What are you laughing at, Tom?"
