"It won't be sacrificing them," said Andy, with forced cheerfulness. "It will only change them. Of course, I must give up the thought of a college education, but I may make a success in business." "It will be very hard upon you," said Mr. Grant, sadly. "No, father. I won't deny that I shall be sorry just at first, but it may turn out better for me in the end." "You are a good boy, to take it so well, Andy. I had no right to risk so much, even for a friend like Lawrence." "You have known Mr. Lawrence for many years, have you not, father?" "Yes; we were schoolboys together. I thought him the soul of honor. But I ought not to have risked three-quarters of my estate, even for him." "You can't be blamed, father. You had full confidence in him." "Yes, I had full confidence in him," sighed Mr. Grant. "And he may yet be able to make up the loss to you." Though Andy said this, he only said it to mitigate his father's regret, for he had very little confidence in the missing cashier or his promises. He was repaid by seeing his father brighten up. "You have cheered me, Andy," he said. "I don't care so much for myself, but I have been thinking of you and your mother." "And we have been thinking of you, father," said Mrs. Grant. "It might be worse." "I don't see very well how that could be." "We are in good health, thank God! and your reputation is unblemished. Compare your position with that of Nathan Lawrence, forced to flee in disgrace under a load of shame." "You are right, wife. He is more to be pitied than I am." "Is he a married man, father?" "No; that is, he is a widower." "While we are spared to each other. We must trust in God and hope for the best." "Mother tells me you expect to get part of the money you need from Squire Carter," said Andy. "Yes, he has promised to take a mortgage of three thousand dollars on the old place." "I have heard he is a hard man, father. I don't think he is influenced by kindness." "I can't afford to inquire into his motives. It is enough that he will furnish the money. But for that I might have to sell the farm, and then we should be quite helpless." About 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?"