"Yes, you; sit down, sit down, young man, and be calm;" and the grocer, in his own excitement, gesticulated violently with both arms at once. "He says that I'm the only man here that has the money to do this. Pretty cool--isn't it?--to dictate to old Cowles, the miserly money-grabber, in that way. I just turned on my heel, and left him in the middle of his ordering; but, you see, I couldn't help thinking about it night and day. I wouldn't wonder if that meddling missionary had been praying about it all the while; and the result is, the old money-lender is going to give you a lift, my boy. We, hackneyed, hopeless old reprobates, need just such preachers as the missionary's famous seminary is going to make out of you; and I invited you here to say that you can depend on me for two hundred dollars in gold to start with, and as much more each year, till you graduate, as the missionary says you need. When old Cowles begins to do a thing, mind you, he never does it by halves." "But," said Tom, choking with joy and wonder, "how shall I pay you?" "Pay! pay!" roared the grocer, his eyes shooting flame; then, suddenly waxing tender, the tears extinguishing the fire-flashes, "if you will pray for a poor old rebel like me, it is all the pay I want." Then, going into the entry, he called,-- "Johnson! Johnson!" "Here, sir," said a voice; and the dapper little tailor, who rented a window in the store, made his appearance. "Measure this young man for a suit of clothes," said the grocer; "and mind and give him a genteel fit, that will do for him in the best circles east." CHAPTER XXIII. AN ENCHANTING SCENE.--THE PARTING. "The hearth is swept, the fire is made, The kettle sings for tea." It was the clear, honest voice of Deacon Palmer that fell on Tom's ear, and which he now heard for the hundredth time. Year in and out, at morning and night, the good man had sung this, his favorite song,--bachelor though he was, with silver-streaked hair,--as if his heart yearned for the wifely waiting, and the sweet home-joys it pictured. Why were they not his? Do all have their longings for something brighter and better than the present brings? something for which they must wait and wait, and perchance never attain? Tom knocked modestly at the storekeeper's door. A moment, and the money-lender opened it, saying, heartily,-- "Walk in; walk in!" "No, I thank you," answered Tom; "I called to say, that as I am to start on Monday to begin study at the east,"--and the young man's tones grew tremulous,--"General and Mrs. McElroy and mother are to be at the missionary's to-day, and they desire the pleasure of your company at dinner."