"I do hope there's nothing wrong, Michael," said his wife. "I fear I
have made a mistake. I spoke to Mr. Sleighter about the possibility of
getting a small farm in the West. You were so eager about it, Michael
dear, and I spoke to Mr. Sleighter about it. I hope there is nothing
wrong."

"Don't worry, mother. I have his offer for five thousand dollars. Of
course he is rather peculiar, I confess, but I believe--" The door
opened abruptly upon them, admitting Mr. Sleighter.

"See here, Mr. Gwynne, I can't do no business with you."

"Sir, you made me an offer for my farm," said Mr. Gwynne indignantly,
"and I have just refused an offer from Mr. Martin on account of yours."

"Oh, we'll cut that all out," said Mr. Sleighter, whose voice and manner
indicated strong excitement. "Now don't talk. Listen to me, my son. You
ain't got any right to be playing around with business men anyhow. Now I
am going to do a little business for you, if you will allow me, ma'am.
I take it you want to get away from here." Mr. Gwynne nodded, gazing
at him in astonishment. "You want to go West." Again Mr. Gwynne nodded.
"Well, there's only one spot in the West--Alberta. You want a farm."

"Yes," said Mr. Gwynne.

"Yes, certainly," said Mrs. Gwynne.

"There's just one farm that will suit you, an' that's Lakeside Farm,
Wolf Willow, Alberta, owned by H. P. Sleighter, Esq., who's going to
stump you to a trade. Five hundred acres, one hundred broke an' a timber