“I hope we shall be able to make you comfortable, Squire Carter,” returned Mrs. Grant, who had entered the room in time to hear this last speech.

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Grant.  I always adapt myself to circumstances.”

“That is very kind in you,” Andy was tempted to say, but he forbore.  It would not do to offend the village magnate.

“I see you have sent for Andrew,” observed the squire, with a wave of his hand toward the boy.

“Yes; I shall not be able to keep him at Penhurst Academy any longer.”

“Very sensible decision of yours.  No doubt it cost you a pretty penny to keep him there?”

“The school charge is three hundred dollars a year.”

“Bless my soul!  How extravagant!  You will excuse my saying so, but I think you have been very unwise.  It really seems like a wasteful use of money.”

“Don’t you believe in education, squire?” asked Mrs. Grant.

“Yes; but why couldn’t he get all the education he needs here?”

“Because there is no one here who teaches Latin and Greek.”

“And what good would Latin and Greek do him?  I don’t know anything of Latin and Greek, and yet I flatter myself I have succeeded pretty well.  I believe I am looked up to in the village, eh?”

“No doubt you occupy a prominent position, squire, but the boy had a fancy for the languages and wanted to go to college.”

“I shall not send my son to college, though, of course, I can afford it.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t care to go.”

“No the boy is sensible.  He will be satisfied with the advantages his father enjoyed.  Supposing your boy had gone to college, what would you have made of him?”

“He thought he would have liked to prepare himself for a teacher or professor.”

“It’s a poor business, Neighbor Grant.  A schoolmate of mine became a teacher—­the teacher of an academy—­and I give you my word, he’s as poor as poverty.”

“Money isn’t everything, squire.”

“It’s a good deal, as in your present circumstances you must admit.  But we may as well come to business.”

CHAPTER III.

Andy leaves the academy.

“You need to raise three thousand dollars, I believe, Neighbor Grant?” began the squire.

“Yes, squire.”

“Three thousand dollars is a good deal of money.”

“I realize that,” said Mr. Grant, sadly.

“I was about to say it is a good deal to raise on the security of the farm.”

“The farm cost me six thousand dollars.”

“It would fetch only five thousand now.  It wouldn’t fetch that at a forced sale.”

“But for my losses, I wouldn’t consider an offer of less than six thousand.”

“Of course, you are attached to it, and that gives it a fancy value in your eyes.”

“It is good land and productive.  Then, it is well situated, and the buildings are good.”