“Is it a good place to make money?”
“I made five hundred dollars.”
“Thats only a little more than a hundred dollars
a year. Frank Dobson has saved as much as that
and he’s stayed right here in Burton.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Pettigrew
heartily. “Frank is a rousing good fellow.
If it hadn’t been for him I couldn’t have
gone to Montana.”
“It doesn’t seem to have done you much
good, as I can see.”
“Oh, well, I am satisfied. Let me introduce
my friend, Mr. Rodney Ropes of New York.”
“Glad to meet you,” said Hector with a
jerk of the head.
“Rodney, won’t you sit inside? I
want to sit outide with Hector.”
“All right, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Who is that boy?” asked Hector with characteristic
Yankee curiosity, as he seized the lines and started
the horses.
“A rich young fellow from New York. I got
acquainted with him there.”
“Rich is he?” Jefferson Pettigrew nodded.
“How rich do you think?”
“Shouldn’t wonder if he might be worth
a hundred thousand.”
“You don’t say! Why, he beat Squire
Sheldon.”
“Oh, yes, Squire Sheldon wouldn’t be considered
rich in New York.”
“How did he get his money?”
“His father left him a fortune.”
“Is that so? I wish my father had left
me a fortune.”
“He did, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did! When his estate was settled
I got seventy five dollars, if you call that a fortune.
But I say, what brings the boy to Burton?”
“His friendship for me, I expect. Besides
he may invest in a place.”
“There’s the old Morse place for sale.
Do you think he’d buy that?”
“It wouldn’t be nice enough for him.
I don’t know any place that would be good enough
except the squire’s.”
“The squire wouldn’t sell.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know as Rodney would
care to locate in Burton.”
“You’re in luck to get such a friend.
Say, do you think he would lend you a hundred dollars
if you were hard up?”
“I know he would. By the way, Hector, is
there any news? How is my uncle?”
“I think the old man is worrying on account
of his mortgage.”
“Who holds it?”
“The squire. They do say he is goin’
to foreclose. That’ll be bad for the old
man. It’ll nigh about break his heart I
expect.”
“Can’t uncle raise the money to pay him?”
“Who is there round here who has got any money
except the squire?”
“That’s so.”
“Where are you goin’ to stop, Jeff?”
“I guess I’ll stop at the tavern tonight,
but I’ll go over and call on uncle this evening.”
JEFFERSON PETTIGREW’S HOME.
News spreads fast in a country village. Scarcely
an hour had passed when it was generally known that
Jefferson Pettigrew had come home from Montana with
a few hundred dollars in money, bringing with him a
rich boy who could buy out all Burton. At least
that is the way the report ran.
