Without hope of personal advantage,
however, he had always been obsequious to them, and often took occasion
to mention them, by way of enhancing his own social credit somewhat.
Mr. Tarbox had heard of Mrs. Courtney's death, but had not heard the
particulars of the will. He took it for granted that Frank was sole
heir, and it did cross his mind more than once how very agreeable it
would be if he could be selected as guardian of the rich young heir. Of
course, he knew that there was no probability of it, since the
stepfather would undoubtedly be appointed to that position.
Mr. Tarbox had just sold a calico dress pattern to a poor woman, when
his attention was drawn to the entrance of Frank Courtney, who entered
his store, valise in hand.
Mr. Tarbox was rather short-sighted, and did not immediately recognize
the son of his rich cousin.
"What can I do for you, young man?" he asked, in his business tone.
"This is Mr. Tarbox, I believe?" said Frank, who did not know his
relatives very well.
"Yes, that is my name."
"I am Frank Courtney."
"Bless my soul!" ejaculated Mr. Tarbox, surprised and delighted. "When
did you arrive in Newark?"
"I have only just arrived.
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