"You'll have to, you bet on that!" snorted the farmer wrathfully. "I'll
go to your aunt right off with the bill."

"Don't do it, Mr. Dale," advised Andy. "She preaches lots about honesty
and responsibility and all that, but she's mighty close when it comes to
the dollars. She wouldn't pay you a cent, no, sir, but I will. That hay
is worth about twenty dollars, I reckon, Mr. Dale?"

"Well, yes, it is," nodded the farmer. "Good timothy is scarce, and that
was a prime lot."

"I've got no money, of course," went on Andy, "but I thought this:
couldn't you give me some work to do and let me pay it out in that way?
I'll do my level best to--"

"Oh! that's your precious proposition, is it?" snarled Mr. Dale,
switching the whip about furiously. "No, I couldn't. The hand I've got
now is idle half the time. See here, Wildwood, arson is a pretty serious
crime. You'd better square this thing some way. In fact you've got to do
it, or there's going to be trouble."

"I know what you mean," said Andy--"you'll have me arrested. You mustn't
do that, Mr. Dale--I feel bad enough, I'm in a hard enough corner
already. I want to do what's right, and I intend to. I owe you twenty
dollars. Will you give me time to pay it in? Will you take my note--with
interest, of course--for the amount?"

"Will I--take your note--interest? ha! ha! oh, dear me! dear me!" fairly
exploded Dale in a burst of uproarious laughter.