"Why didn't he tell me?" asked Philip incredulously.

"He thought it would make you unhappy."

"You didn't mind that," said Philip, his lips curling.

"No," answered Mrs. Brent, with a curious smile. "Why should I? I never
pretended to like you, and now I have less cause than ever, after your
brutal treatment of my boy."

Jonas endeavored to look injured, but could not at once change the
expression of his countenance.

"Your explanation is quite satisfactory, Mrs. Brent," returned Philip.
"I don't think I stood much higher in your estimation yesterday than
today, so that I haven't lost much. But you haven't given me any proof
yet."

"Wait a minute."

Mrs. Brent left the room, went up-stairs, and speedily returned,
bringing with her a small daguerreotype, representing a boy of three
years.

"Did you ever see this before?" she asked.

"No," answered Philip, taking it from her hand and eying it curiously.

"When Mr. and Mrs. Brent decided that you were to be left on their