“Yes, sir, but not for myself.  I can now relieve my father’s anxiety.”

“Do you intend to tell him the amount of your good fortune?”

“I will only tell him of your gift.”

On the basis of the sum which Mr. Crawford paid for the other four-fifths, Andy’s share of Mr. Johnson’s land amounted to twelve hundred and fifty dollars.  But when, three months later, active operations for the extension and completion of the railroad commenced, it could easily have been sold for double.

But Andy was too sagacious to sell.  In a year his father’s mortgage would be payable, and he wanted to be prepared for that.

Meanwhile Andy devoted himself with energy to mastering the details of the real estate business.  Perhaps because he now himself owned real estate, he became very much interested in it.  He was not able often to visit Arden, but he never let a week pass without writing a letter home.

It was usually addressed to his mother, as his father was more accustomed to guiding the plow than the pen.  He also heard occasionally from his boy friends.  No letters were more welcome than those of Valentine Burns.  About three months before the mortgage became due he received the following from Valentine: 

“DEAR ANDY:  I wish I could see you oftener, but I know you are busy, and getting on.  That is a great satisfaction to me.  Your last letter informing me that you had been raised to fifteen dollars a week gave me much pleasure.  I wanted to tell Conrad, only you didn’t wish to have me.  He is getting prouder and more disagreeable every day.  He really seems to have a great spite against you, though I cannot understand why.

    “I met him the other day, and he inquired after you.  ’He hasn’t been
    to Arden lately,’ he said.

    “‘No,’ I answered, ‘he is too busy.’

    “‘Probably he can’t afford the railway fare,’ said Conrad.

    “‘I think he is getting good pay,’ I said.

    “‘I know better.  He isn’t getting over six dollars at most,’ said
    Conrad.

    “‘Did he tell you so?’ I asked.

    “‘No, but I heard on good authority,’ he replied.

    “‘I wish I were getting that,’ I said.

    “‘You wouldn’t want to live on it,’ he rejoined.

    “‘Well, perhaps not,’ I admitted.

    “‘He won’t long have a home to come back to,’ said Conrad, after a
    pause.

    “‘Why not?’ I inquired.

    “’My father holds a mortgage on his father’s farm, and it will fall
    due in three months,’ he answered.

    “‘Surely he won’t foreclose?’

“‘Surely he will,’ returned Conrad.  ’Old Grant will have to leave the farm and go to the poorhouse, or, at any rate, to some small place like the Sam Martin house.  It contains four rooms, and is good enough for a bankrupt.’

“This made me uneasy.  I hope, Andy, you will find some friend who will be able and willing to advance money to pay the mortgage when it falls due.  I hear Squire Carter is treating with a city man to buy the place.  He evidently feels sure that it will come into his possession.”

When Andy read this portion of the letter he smiled.