"I can't tell, sir, but I don't think I can spare more than three or four days."

"May I hope that you and Mr. Ropes will take supper with me tomorrow evening?"

"Say the next day and we'll come. Tomorrow I must go to my uncle's."

"Oh very well!"

Squire Sheldon privately resolved to pump Rodney as to the investment of his property. He was curious to learn first how much the boy was worth, for if there was anything that the squire worshiped it was wealth. He was glad to find that Mr. Pettigrew had only brought home five hundred dollars, as it was not enough to lift the mortgage on his uncle's farm.

After they were left alone Jefferson Pettigrew turned to Rodney and said, "Do you mind my leaving you a short time and calling at my uncle's?"

"Not at all, Mr. Pettigrew. I can pa.s.s my time very well."

Jefferson Pettigrew directed his steps to an old fashioned farmhouse about half a mile from the village. In the rear the roof sloped down so that the eaves were only five feet from the ground. The house was large though the rooms were few in number.

In the sitting room sat an old man and his wife, who was nearly as old. It was not a picture of cheerful old age, for each looked sad.

The sadness of old age is pathetic for there is an absence of hope, and courage, such as younger people are apt to feel even when they are weighed down by trouble.

Cyrus Hooper was seventy one, his wife two years younger. During the greater part of their lives they had been well to do, if not prosperous, but now their money was gone, and there was a mortgage on the old home which they could not pay.

"I don't know whats goin' to become of us, Nancy," said Cyrus Hooper.

"We'll have to leave the old home, and when the farm's been sold there won't be much left over and above the mortgage which Louis Sheldon holds."

"Don't you think the squire will give you a little more time, Cyrus?"

"No; I saw him yesterday, and he's sot on buyin' in the farm for himself. He reckons it won't fetch more'n eighteen hundred dollars."

"Thats only six hundred over the mortgage."

"It isn't that Nancy. There's about a hundred dollars due in interest.

We won't get more'n five hundred dollars."

"Surely, Cyrus, the farm is worth three thousand dollars."

"So it is, Nancy, but that won't do us any good, as long as no one wants it more'n the squire."

"I wish Jefferson were at home."

"What good would it do? I surmise he hasn't made any money. He never did have much enterprise, that boy."

"He was allus a good boy, Cyrus."

"That's so, Nancy, but he didn't seem cut out for makin' money. Still it would do me good to see him. Maybe we might have a home together, and manage to live."

Just then a neighbor entered.

"Have you heard the news?" she asked.

"No; what is it?"

"Your nephew Jefferson Pettigrew has got back."

"You don't mean so. There, Jefferson, that's one comfort."

"And they say he has brought home five hundred dollars."

"That's more'n I thought he'd bring. Where is he?"

"Over at the tavern. He's brought a young man with him, leastways a boy, that's got a lot of money."

"The boy?"

"Yes; he's from New York, and is a friend of Jefferson's."

"Well, I'm glad he's back. Why didn't he come here?"

"It's likely he would if the boy wasn't with him."

"Perhaps he heard of my misfortune."

"I hope it'll all come right, Mr. Hooper. My, if there ain't Jefferson comin' to see you now. I see him through the winder. I guess I'll be goin'. You'll want to see him alone."

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE BOY CAPITALIST.

"How are you, Uncle Cyrus?" said Jefferson Pettigrew heartily, as he clasped his uncle's toil worn hand. "And Aunt Nancy, too! It pays me for coming all the way from Montana just to see you."

"I'm glad to see you, Jefferson," said his uncle. "It seems a long time since you went away. I hope you've prospered."

"Well, uncle, I've brought myself back well and hearty, and I've got a few hundred dollars."

"I'm glad to hear it, Jefferson. You're better off than when you went away."

"Yes, uncle. I couldn't be much worse off. Then I hadn't a cent that I could call my own. But how are you and Aunt Nancy?"

"We're gettin' old, Jefferson, and misfortune has come to us. Squire Sheldon has got a mortgage on the farm and it's likely we'll be turned out. You've come just in time to see it."

"Is it so bad as that, Uncle Cyrus? Why, when I went away you were prosperous."

"Yes, Jefferson, I owned the farm clear, and I had money in the bank, but now the money's gone and there's a twelve hundred dollar mortgage on the old place," and the old man sighed.

"But how did it come about uncle? You and Aunt Nancy haven't lived extravagantly, have you? Aunt Nancy, you haven't run up a big bill at the milliner's and dressmaker's?"

"You was always for jokin', Jefferson," said the old lady, smiling faintly; "but that is not the way our losses came."