After a careful inspection, Andy made a favorable report. "Of course," he said, "if I am mistaken we will make matters right." "That will be satisfactory. What is your price for the house?" "Eight thousand dollars." Mr. Grayling, after a brief consideration, said: "That seems reasonable. I will buy the house. How soon can you give me possession?" "In a week." "Very good. Then our business seems to be concluded. We will catch the next train back to the city." "Would you mind giving me a memorandum stating that you will buy the house?" "I will do so. We will stop at a stationery store, and I will make it out." When Andy re-entered Mr. Crawford's office the real estate agent inquired: "How does Mr. Grayling like the house?" "He has bought it." "Is it possible? At what figure?" "Eight thousand dollars." "Good! I was authorized to take two hundred dollars less, if need be." "He asked no reduction." "I hope he won't change his mind." "He won't. Here is his written agreement to take the house." "Excellent. Did he offer this assurance?" "No, sir. I asked for it." "Andy, you have succeeded admirably. I shall have great pleasure in keeping my promise and paying you eighty dollars, or one per cent, on the purchase money." "That will be very acceptable, Mr. Crawford. I don't often earn eighty dollars in one day." In reply to Mr. Crawford's inquiries, Andy gave a detailed account of his visit, and his employer drew a check for eighty dollars, which he placed in his hands. "Now that I see what you can do," he said, "I shall send you out again." "Perhaps you will find my services too expensive." "No. In addition to my regular percentage I receive an extra hundred dollars for getting the full eight thousand dollars." Andy cashed the check, and deposited the money in a savings bank. He did not pay it to Mr. Crawford on account of the land in Tacoma, for it occurred to him that he might have occasion to use it. In this he proved correct. Three weeks later he received a letter from his father. Sterling Grant was a farmer, little used to writing letters, and Andy knew that there must be some special reason for his writing at this time. He opened the letter quickly, and this was what he read: "DEAR ANDY: I am in trouble. Next Tuesday the semi-annual interest on Squire Carter's three thousand dollars falls due, and I have but twenty dollars to meet it. My crops have not been up to the average. I have lost my best cow, and somehow everything seems to have gone against me. I expected to sell ten tons of hay, and have had but seven to spare. This alone made a difference of sixty dollars.