But this did not last. Mother's influence was all a pull in the other direction, and grannie was gone, and I was but a child. And by-and-by father wanted more ready money, and he went again to Mr. Simmons, and after that the two were often to be seen together. Then the Church-going began to drop off again, and if I said a word about it father told me not to bother him, and he seemed never to like to speak about grannie. Things were like this when the money came. For it came at last; close upon a year after old Morison's death. Not full five thousand pounds, though; for there was "legacy-duty" to be taken out of it, and that made a difference. And there were bills to be paid, and loans to be returned. Father and mother didn't like half so well paying the bills, as they had liked choosing things beforehand. And I am pretty certain Mr. Simmons must have made a nice sum for himself out of the lendings. He did not abate one penny of interest for the sake of friendship, as father had thought he would do; and father was so angry that he sheered off, and would have nothing to do with Mr. Simmons for a while. But he got over this feeling—more's the pity. It is astonishing how the bills had run up—bills for food, and furniture, and dress, and all sorts of things. It was quite startling to us all. Father was very vexed, and he told mother it was all her doing, which made her cry. However, he finished off by saying that he didn't mean to be content with less than four hundred a year, but on four hundred he thought we might do grandly. So of course we might have done, if we had known how. But mother was comforted, and dried her tears, and neither seemed to care any longer. I don't know who it was that father went to for advice about investing the money. I am quite sure it was neither Mr. Scott nor Mr. Carver, and just then father had quarrelled with Mr. Simmons; so it must have been somebody else. He told us he was to have near upon four hundred a year, and he seemed to think that would do anything. The next step was that mother wanted Asaph to go to school, and to learn, as she said, "to be a gentleman." She chose a school where the terms were high, but neither she nor father minded that; only father said he did not see why I was not to go to school too. Mother said I was too old, and she wanted me in the house to help. Father gave in, and did not seem much to care, which disappointed me, for I should have liked school. Grannie had taught me to love books, and I always longed for more learning. I had to be content without, though, at that time.