This invitation Andy was very glad to accept.  He was drawn to the young man, and felt that he was likely to prove a sincere friend.

At seven o’clock he left the farmhouse, and on arriving at the hotel found Mr. Gale sitting on the piazza.

“I was looking for you,” said the young man.  “Come up to my room.”

He led the way to a front corner apartment on the second floor.  It was the best room in the hotel, and he had furnished it in the most comfortable and attractive manner.  Pictures hung on the walls, and there was a bookcase containing a goodly array of volumes.

“What a pleasant room!” exclaimed Andy.

“Yes; I have tried to make myself comfortable.  What I lack most is society.”

“I wonder that you are content to live in the country.  Are you not accustomed to the city?”

“Yes; but I had a severe sickness in the spring, and the doctors recommended me to absent myself for a time from the excitement of the town and take up my residence in the country.”

“Didn’t that interfere with your business?”

Walter Gale smiled.

“Fortunately, or unfortunately,” he answered, “I have no business.  Until two years since I was employed in an insurance office in the city.  The death of an uncle has made me pecuniarily independent, so that I had leisure to be sick.”

“You look in good health now.”

“Yes; but I have a nervous temperament, and am obliged to be careful.  Now tell me about yourself.  You have been for some time at Penhurst Academy?”

“Yes; for two years.”

“Do you go back there?”

“No; my father has met with serious losses, and can no longer afford to send me.  I must stay at home and help him.”

“And this is a disappointment to you?”

“Yes; I was expecting to go to college in a few months.”

“I believe your father is a farmer?”

“Yes.”

“Do you expect to assist him on the farm?”

“Till I can get something to do.  I shall try to get some business situation.  Business pays better than farming.”

“I suppose you are a good Latin and Greek scholar?”

“Yes; that is, I like the languages, and stood high in my classes.”

“My own education is limited.  Though I am rich now, I was a poor boy.  At sixteen I had made some progress in Latin and commenced Greek, when my father’s failure obliged me to seek employment.  The uncle who has now made me rich would do nothing for me; so I left school half educated.”

“You would be able to make up deficiencies now,” suggested Andy.

“That is what I have been thinking of, if I can get a satisfactory teacher.”

“I don’t think you can find a classical teacher in Arden.”

“I know of one, if he would be willing to undertake the task.”

“Who is it?” asked Andy, puzzled.

“Andrew Grant,” answered this young man, with a smile.