“Since we are talking of your new business, I may as well say that she has agreed that you are to have this place.” I could not help wondering what boy had sat between them, and made a conversation on the subject possible. “I don’t know whether it is fit for what you want it or not, but we have both decided that you may try.” I was surprised that he knew Jo had such an ambition, or that he knew Jo had gone to Barker’s to live, for it was a chance that any one had taken the pains to tell him. “If my hands get better by the time you are ready to commence,” he said, “I will help you. I was once a good hand at framing timbers, and there is enough on the place to build the mill. I have picked out a great many sticks in my trips to the woods which will be suitable.” It pleased Jo to know that he had been planning to help him, for no one else had. “I don’t want you to help me, father,” he said, “though I am glad you offer to, for now I know you have confidence in me. I intend to help you, after I become a miller, instead of permitting you to help me. I am sorry I never talked to you about it before; you know more about it than any of them.” “I have thought about your mill a great deal,” was his reply, “and have great hope that you will turn out a better man than your father. I have never amounted to much; both of you know that, but you have a better start. It is poor enough; you can imagine what mine was, and you know more than I did at your age. I have lived all my life in places where men were not expected to amount to much, and were satisfied if they did not. It seems to be different now.” What a dull country he must have lived in, to have thought Fairview superior to it! “I think you ought to build your house where this one stands,” he said. “I have planted a number of trees around it for you, and I hope that when you are grown up, your happy children may play under their shade. It is a pretty place here, and it is but a few rods to the best point for a mill. I have more confidence in you than any one else. I would help you if I could.” Jo was greatly affected by this kindness, and as an excuse to get out of doors, fearing he would be weak enough to cry if he remained there, suggested that we get dinner. The idea was not a bad one, after we came to think more of it, and we soon had it under way. My grandfather pretended not to know what we were about, but I saw him looking frequently into the kitchen, where we were, and when it was declared ready, he tried to be greatly surprised. There was a number of young chickens running around, and we had taken two of these, intending to leave word for Gran that the hawks had been about, and that the mice had been in the pickles and preserves. The dinner was Jo’s best effort, and, being familiar with everything his father was fond of, he succeeded in making him very good natured.