“That would be a wise thing to do,” spoke Mrs. Olney. “New York is such a big place. Perhaps Larry could find some work there.” “I hope he can,” said Larry’s mother. “He is getting to be a strong boy, but I would rather see him in school.” “Of course, knowledge is good for the young,” admitted Mrs. Peterkins, “but you’ll need the money Larry can earn.” “I’m goin’ to earn money when I go to New York!” exclaimed James. “I’m goin’ to the end of the rainbow, where there’s a pot of gold, an’ I’m goin’ to dig it up an’ give it all to mommer.” “Good for you!” exclaimed Mrs. Olney, clasping the little fellow to her and kissing him. “You’ll be a great help to your mother when you grow up.” “Kisses is for girls!” exclaimed James, struggling to free himself, whereat even his mother, who had been saddened by the thought of leaving her home, smiled. “Will--will you have any money left after the place is sold?” asked Mrs. Peterkins. “I hope it will bring in at least a few hundred dollars above the mortgage,” answered Mrs. Dexter. “If it does not I don’t know what I’ll do. We would have to sell some of the house things to get money enough to travel.” Outside, the shrill voice of the auctioneer could be heard, for it was summer and the windows were open. “Third an’ last call!” cried Mr. Rollinson. “Oh, it’s going to be sold!” exclaimed Mrs. Dexter, with a sound that seemed like a sob in her throat. “The dear old farm is going.” “Third an’ last call!” the deputy sheriff went on. “Last call! Last call! Going! Going! Gone!” With a bang that sounded like the report of a rifle, Mr. Rollinson brought his hammer down on the block. “I declare this farm sold to Jeptha Morrison fer th’ sum of thirty-two hundred and seventy-five dollars,” he cried. “Step this way, Mr. Morrison, an’ I’ll take yer money an’ give ye a receipt. Allers willin’ t’ take money,”--at which sally the crowd laughed. “Only thirty-two hundred and seventy-five dollars,” repeated Mrs. Dexter. “Why, that will leave scarcely anything for me. The sheriff’s fees will have to be paid, and some back interest. I will have nothing.” She looked worried, and the two neighbors, knowing what it meant to be a widow without money and with little children to support, felt keenly for her. “Mother!” exclaimed a voice, and a lad came into the room somewhat excitedly. “Mother, the farm’s sold!” “Yes, Larry, I heard Mr. Rollinson say so,” said Mrs. Dexter. “It wasn’t fair!” the boy went on. “We should have got more for it!” “Hush, Larry. Don’t say it wasn’t fair,” said his mother. “You should accuse no one.” “But I heard Mr. Mortland going around and telling people not to bid on it, as the title wasn’t good,” the boy declared. “He wanted to scare them from bidding so he could get the property cheap.” “But he didn’t buy it,” said Mrs. Dexter. “It went to Mr. Morrison.”