“You have cheered me, Andy,” he said.  “I don’t care so much for myself, but I have been thinking of you and your mother.”

“And we have been thinking of you, father,” said Mrs. Grant.  “It might be worse.”

“I don’t see very well how that could be.”

“We are in good health, thank God! and your reputation is unblemished.  Compare your position with that of Nathan Lawrence, forced to flee in disgrace under a load of shame.”

“You are right, wife.  He is more to be pitied than I am.”

“Is he a married man, father?”

“No; that is, he is a widower.”

“While we are spared to each other.  We must trust in God and hope for the best.”

“Mother tells me you expect to get part of the money you need from Squire Carter,” said Andy.

“Yes, he has promised to take a mortgage of three thousand dollars on the old place.”

“I have heard he is a hard man, father.  I don’t think he is influenced by kindness.”

“I can’t afford to inquire into his motives.  It is enough that he will furnish the money.  But for that I might have to sell the farm, and then we should be quite helpless.”

About seven o’clock Squire Carter made his appearance.  Andy opened the door for him.

He was a tall, florid-faced man, with an air of consequence based upon his knowledge that he was the richest man in the town.

“Good-evening, Andrew,” he said, for he was always formal.  “So you are home from school?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When did you come?”

“This afternoon, sir.”

“I suppose you heard of your father’s misfortune?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ha! it is very sad—­very sad, indeed.  I quite feel for your father.  I am trying to help him out of his trouble.  He was a very foolish man to risk so much on that rascal, Lawrence.”

Andy was disposed to agree with the squire, but he did not like to hear his father blamed.

“I think he realizes that he was unwise, Squire Carter,” said Andy.  “Won’t you walk in?”

“I suppose your father is at home?” said the squire, as he stepped into the front entry.

“Yes, sir; he was expecting you.”

Andy opened the door of the sitting room, and the squire entered.  Mr. Grant rose from the rocking-chair in which he was seated and welcomed his visitor.

“I am glad to see you, squire,” he said.  “Take a seat by the fire.”

“Thank you,” said the squire, with dignity.  “I came, as I said I would.  I do not desert an old neighbor because he has been unfortunate.”

But for his patronizing tone his words would have awakened more gratitude.  As it was, his manner seemed to say:  “See how kind-hearted I am.”

Somehow, Andy felt more and more sorry to think his father must be indebted to such a man.

“It is getting quite fallish,” said the squire, rubbing his hands.  “I suppose I am more sensitive to cold, as my home is heated throughout with steam.”