"What do you hear
from that boy of yours? Is he doin' well?"
"He's at work in a shoe shop."
"Does it pay well?"
"He doesn't get much just at first."
"Then he won't be able to pay for the cow," thought the squire.
"That's what I wanted to know."
"He'd better have gone to work for me," he said
"No, I think he will do better away from home. He will get a good
trade that he can fall back upon hereafter, even if he follows some
other business."
"Wal, I never learned no trade but I've got along middlin' well,"
said the squire, in a complacent tone. "Farmin's good enough for
me."
"I would say the same if I had your farm, squire. You wouldn't
exchange, would you?"
"That's a good joke, neighbor Walton. When I make up my mind to do
it. I'll let you know."
"What a mean old curmudgeon he is!" thought Hiram Walton, as he kept
on his way to the village store. "He evidently intends to keep me
to my agreement and will exact the ten dollars in case I can't pay
for the cow at the appointed time. It will be nothing but a robbery."
This was not the day for a letter from Harry but it occurred to Mr.
Walton to call at the post office. Contrary to his anticipations,
a letter was handed him.
"I won't open it till I get home," he said to himself.
"I've got a letter from Harry," he said, as he entered the house.
"A letter from Harry? It isn't his day for writing," said Mrs.
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