longer, but looked up with a wonder of comprehensiveness in the
bearded face bent kindly over his. "He looks at me the way father use
to," thought Jerome.

"What made you come to me, my boy?" asked the Squire, presently. "Did
you think I could pay the mortgage for you?"

Then Jerome colored furiously and threw up his head. "No, _sir_,"
said he, proudly.

"Why, then?"

"I came because you are a justice of the peace, and know what law is,
and--"

"And what?"

"I've always heard you were pleasanter-spoken than he was."

The Squire laughed. "Pleasant words are cheap coin," said he. "I wish
I had something better for your sake, child. Now let me see what it
is you propose. That wood-lot of your father's, you say, Doctor
Prescott has offered three hundred dollars for."

"Yes, sir."

The Squire whistled. "Didn't your father think it was worth more than
that?"

"Yes, sir, but he didn't think he could get any more. He said--"