“It's about Stephen,” said Virginia, when they were seated in the library. “I must begin to think of his future. I am thinking seriously of sending him away to school!” “But why burden yourself, Mrs. Landray? There is the public school—temporarily,” he added hastily, for he detected a look of quick resentment. “His father and uncle were college-bred men, Mr. Benson, and I can't bear to think that his opportunities are to be limited in a way their's were not!” And, sadly, “He will have need of every advantage.” “Not limited, except in the immediate present,” he made haste to say; “and don't you see, to send him East to some preparatory school would be a great trial to you? Might it not be dangerous as well? He might form undesirable associations, for instance.” “For that reason, perhaps, I should prefer Dr. Long's school!” But Benson was opposed to this purpose to which she was evidently only too willing to devote a part of her slender income. Stephen if he were properly ambitious, would do very well in the public schools. “I don't wish to urge my opinion,” he said apologetically. “Tell me, Mr. Benson, what I really have to look forward to in the way of money; I have never quite understood.” “Well, there is the income from the farm, Mrs. Landray, and the rent from the mill; of course, part of this is absorbed by the interest you are paying.” Virginia gazed at him thoughtfully. “Of course,” she said slowly, considering the question, “the interest on the money that has been borrowed must be paid, and the money, too. Am I extravagant, do you think I am?” “Oh, no!” and he smiled at the idea. “But you are inclined to be too generous where others are concerned.” “Please tell me just what I owe?” “In the first place, part of the debt is Stephen's.” “Poor little fellow! And he is to begin life burdened by debt! How much do we owe, Mr. Benson?” “The estate owes nine thousand dollars.” “It's a very large sum, I don't know that I ever understood exactly how much it was before.” “After all my explanations?” he said reproachfully. “How much is the interest?” “A trifle over six hundred dollars.” “And how much is the income?” “Well, there are the earnings from the farm; last year, in spite of a partial failure of the season, your share sold for five hundred dollars; and of course your actual expenses here are small; the rent from the mill is six hundred and fifty. Then there is the rent of the farm north of town, which is one hundred and fifty more. It figures up thirteen hundred dollars, which leaves you clear something over six hundred dollars.” “That doesn't seem so bad, does it?” she said hopefully, but she added quickly, “I forgot, the debt itself will have to be paid eventually.” And her face fell. “I wouldn't worry about that yet.” And he explained that the mill, and water rights, constituted such excellent security that Mr. Stark had signified his willingness to wait her pleasure in the matter.