"Well, I think I've gained something," he thought, as he sped along. "Anyway, we will have a roof over our heads and that is something. To be sure, the cottage is a poor one, but poor folks can't have everything as they want it." When the boy arrived home he found his father had had another bad turn but was now resting easier. Without delay he told of what had happened at Deep Haven. "Your aunt is a Tartar," said Louis Thompson. "I never liked her, and that is why I and your Uncle Peter have drifted apart. I thought he had sold the twelve-acre lot to Jerry Borden, who pastures his cows there." "Jerry Borden will have to get out--that is, if we take possession," said Randy. "Mother, what do you think of it?" "Is the cottage usable? I have not seen it for a year or more." "It will have to be fixed up some. But I am sure I can do the work, with father's tools." "It will save the rent money." "And I can plant a garden, even if it is late. And we can keep some chickens, and then, after everything is in shape, I can again look for outside work." "Randy's idea is a good one," answered the boy's father. "Our month will be up here next week. I'll notify the owner at once about leaving." The next morning Randy went over to the twelve-acre farm, a corner of which sloped down to the river. He had passed it a hundred times before, but it was with an entirely different feeling that he surveyed it now. It was pasture land, naturally good, but much neglected. A great many stones needed to be removed and the fences wanted propping up and here and there a new rail. The house, which faced a little side road, was a story and a half in height, with two rooms below and two chambers above. There was a well that needed fixing and also a cistern. Around the cottage the weeds grew high, and one of the windows was out and a door was missing. "I can fix this place up, I am sure of it," said the boy to himself. He was making a mental note of what was to be done when he heard a noise on the road and saw a farmer approaching, driving a dozen cows before him. It was Jerry Borden, the man who had been using the pasture lot without paying for it. "Hullo! What air you a-doin' here?" asked Jerry Borden, looking at Randy in some surprise. "We are going to move over here, Mr. Borden," answered Randy, calmly. "Move over here!" ejaculated the farmer. "Yes." "In this air tumble-down cottage?" "I am going to fix it up some." "Well, I vow! It ain't fit to live in!" "It will be." "An' the land ain't wuth shucks." "It seems to be good enough for the cows." At this Jerry Borden's face fell a little. "If you air a-goin' to move in, I guess thet means I'm to move out," he ventured. "It does, unless----" Randy paused, struck by a sudden idea. "Unless what?" asked the farmer, eagerly. He wanted to use the lot very much, for he was short of pasturing on his own farm.