CHAPTER XXIII 



A RETURN 



IT was a beautiful afternoon in August 

 about three years after I bought my 

 farm, and I was sitting in my office 

 idly watching the people passing in 

 the square, and wondering why I did not hear 

 from Dick, who was on a vacation and had not 

 written me for ten days. I missed him and missed 

 his letters, which were bright, gossipy, and full of 

 happy observations on passing events. 



Dick had greatly disappointed me by firmly 

 standing out against a college course, and by 

 entering my office for the study of law. But in 

 the office he was so apt and helpful, so good- 

 natured and so studious, that I felt that perhaps 

 he was right after all, and I had been looking 

 forward to the day when his name might be on 

 my sign, so selfish do old men get when their 

 interests are concerned. 



I felt reasonably sure about Dick. He was by 

 no means a goody-goody, had a quick temper, 

 was more than a bit mulish, but well-disposed 

 and rather ambitious. He was well-liked by his 



