"Well, come, Louise; we'll go home," said Uncle John, sadly. "I'd hoped to be able to drive this fine fellow back, but Dan'll have to groan an' balk all the way to the farm." Ethel smiled. "Better buy at my price, Mr. Merrick," she suggested. "Tell you what I'll do," he said, pausing. "I'll split the difference. Take two hundred and well call it a bargain." "But I cannot do that, sir." "It will help pay you for the hard work of fixing up the house," he rejoined, pleadingly. "Your bill wasn't half enough." "My bill?" wonderingly. "The one I paid McNutt for your services." "I made no charge, sir. I could not accept anything for a bit of assistance to a neighbor." "Oh! Then McNutt got it, did he?" "I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Merrick. I told Peggy I would not accept payment." "H-m. Never mind. We're not going to quarrel, little neighbor. May I hitch Joe to the surrey?" "If you like. I'll help you." Uncle John led Joe from his stall and together they harnessed the horse to the surrey. The girl knew better than the man how to buckle the straps properly, while Louise stood by helplessly and watched the performance. Then Uncle John went for old Dan, whom he led, rickety buggy and all, into the Thompson stable. "I'll send Hucks over to get him, although we might as well knock him in the head," he said as he unharnessed the ancient steed. "Now then, Louise, hop in." "You'll be sure to come over Thursday, for the day, Miss Thompson?" asked Louise, taking Joe's reins from her uncle's hands. "I'll not forget such a delightful engagement, be sure." Uncle John had his pocketbook out, and now he wadded up some bills and thrust them into the little school teacher's hand. "Drive ahead, Louise," he called. "Good morning, my dear. See you on Thursday." As the vehicle rolled out of the yard and turned into the highway, Ethel unrolled the bills with trembling fingers. "If he has dared--!" she began, but paused abruptly with a smile of content. The rich man had given her exactly one hundred dollars. CHAPTER IX. THE LIVES OF THE SAINTS. On Wednesday afternoon McNutt drove the sad-eyed sorrel mare over to the Wegg farm again. He had been racking his brain for a way to get more money out of the nabob, for the idea had become a veritable passion with him and now occupied all his thoughts.