Andy Grant's Pluck. Alger Horatio Jr.

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."

      "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."

      "Well, tolerable," said the squire, cautiously. "However, that's neither here nor there. You want three thousand dollars, and I have agreed to let you have it. I will take a mortgage for two years, the interest being, as usual, six per cent."

      "Two years?" repeated Farmer Grant, uneasily.

      "Yes. I am not sure that I can spare the money longer than two years. I give you that time to pay it off."

      "But it will be impossible for me to pay it off in two years. In fact, it will take all my income to live and pay the interest."

      "Of course that isn't my lookout."

      "Do you mean that you will foreclose in two years?"

      "Not necessarily. I may not need the money so soon. Besides, you may find some one else to take it off my hands."

      "Can't you say five years, squire?" pleaded the farmer.

      Squire Carter shook his head.

      "No; you can take it or leave it. I am not at all anxious to take the mortgage, and if my terms are not agreeable, we will consider the negotiations at an end."

      "I won't make any difficulty, squire; I accept your terms."

      "That is sensible. I can't, for my part, see how five years would have been more favorable to you than two."

      "My son Andrew is sixteen. By the time he is twenty-one he might help me."

      "There's not much chance of that—unless he marries a fortune," said the squire, jocosely. "I suppose you will keep him at home to help you on the farm?"

      "We haven't talked the matter over yet. I will consult his wishes as far as I can. He can't earn much money on the farm. What are you going to do with your son?"

      "Conrad will probably be a merchant, or a banker," said the squire, pompously.

      "With your means you can select any path in life for him."

      "True; as my son he will have a great advantage. Well, as our business is arranged, I will leave you. If you will call at Lawyer Tower's office to-morrow at noon the papers can be drawn up, and I will give you a check for the money."

      "Thank you, squire. I will meet the appointment."

      "If you don't want Andrew to work on the farm I will turn over his case in my mind and see if I can get him a position."

      "Thank you. I should be glad to have him well started in some business where he can raise himself."

      As the term of the academy was so nearly completed, Andy went back with his father's permission, to remain till vacation. He sought an interview at once with Dr. Crabb, the principal, and informed him of the necessity he was under of leaving the institution.

      "I