as his nephew and brother-in-law left the handsome room.
"A steam yacht," murmured the old man. "A sinful waste of money! It's time I took a hand in this! Mortimer Hamilton is crazy to let his son do this. It will be the ruination of the boy. I—I must stop this waste of money in some way, even if I have to prevent him—but no, I mustn't even whisper it. But I have a plan—I have a plan! Perhaps, after all, I can keep Richard from becoming a spendthrift. That would be terrible! I must try! I must try!" and, rubbing his gnarled hands together, the old man sat down in an easy chair. There was a look of cunning and craftiness on Mr. Larabee's face, and, as he thought of something, a smile spread itself over his wrinkled features, and the little tuft of white whiskers on his chin moved up and down as he mumbled to himself:
"I must prevent it! I must prevent it! I can think of some scheme. The Hamilton fortune shan't be squandered if I can help it, for it will come to me and my wife when they—when they are both gone, and I'm going to live a good while yet—a good while," and Uncle Ezra rubbed his dry hands together, and chuckled in a mirthless fashion.
Meanwhile Dick and his father talking over the scheme of purchasing a steam yacht, were all unconscious of the plot that Mr. Larabee was planning against them.
