"I do not want to bring them up in any unpleasant spirit," answered Mr. Chattaway; "or to say it was his fault or my fault. We'll let bygones be bygones. He is gone, poor man; and I wish that savage beast of a bull had been in four quarters before he had done the mischief! All I would now say, is, that I'll put no impediment to your remaining on the farm. We will not go into business details this afternoon, but I will come in any day you like to appoint, and talk it over. If you choose to keep on the farm at its present rent--it is well worth it--to pay me interest for the money owing, and a yearly sum towards diminishing the debt, you are welcome to do it." Just what Nora had predicted! Mr. Chattaway loved money far too much to run the risk of losing part of the debt--as he probably would do if he turned them from the farm. Mrs. Ryle bowed her head in cold acquiescence. She saw no way open to her but that of accepting the offer. Mr. Chattaway probably knew there was no other. "The sooner things are settled, the better," she remarked. "I will name eleven o'clock to-morrow morning." "Very good; I'll be here," he answered. "And I am glad it is decided amicably." The rest of those present also appeared glad. Perhaps they had feared some unpleasant recrimination might take place between Mrs. Ryle and James Chattaway. Thus relieved, they unbent a little, and crossed their legs as if inclined to become more sociable. "What shall you do with the boys, Mrs. Ryle?" suddenly asked Farmer Apperley. "Treve, of course, will go to school as usual," she replied. "George----I have not decided about George." "Shall I have to leave school?" cried George, looking up with a start. "Of course you will," said Mrs. Ryle. "But what will become of my Latin; my studies altogether?" returned George, in tones of dismay. "You know, mamma----" "It cannot be helped, George," she interrupted, speaking in the uncompromising, decisive manner, so characteristic of her; as it was of her sister, Diana Trevlyn. "You must turn your attention to something more profitable than schooling, now." "If a boy of fifteen has not had schooling enough, I'd like to know when he has had it?" interposed Farmer Apperley, who neither understood nor approved of the strides education and intellect had made since he was a boy. Substantial people in his day had been content to learn to read and write and cipher, and deem that amount of learning sufficient to grow rich upon. As did the Dutch professor, to whom George Primrose wished to teach Greek, but who declined the offer. He had never learned Greek; he had lived, and ate, and slept without Greek; and therefore he did not see any good in Greek. Thus was it with Farmer Apperley. "What do you learn at school, George?" questioned Mr. Berkeley. "Latin and Greek, and mathematics, and----"