Larry glanced at them. They were mostly for the farm up in Campton which the sheriff had sold. One document, however, caught Larry’s eye.
“Hello,” he said. “What’s this? ‘Property in the State of New York, in the locality known as the Bronx.’ I say, mother, what’s this?”
“Oh, that’s a deed to some land your father took a good many years ago in settlement of some money a man owed him. It’s no good though.”
“Why not?”
“Because your father had it looked up. It’s nothing but a piece of swamp land. He was swindled on that deal.”
“Maybe it will be good some day,” said Larry. “I heard some of the reporters talking in the office to-day about the Bronx. There’s a river there. It’s quite a ways out, and the reporters hate to be sent there on stories. But maybe some day, when New York grows bigger, the land will be valuable.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Mrs. Dexter with a sigh. “You might as well burn the deed up.”
“No, I’ll save it,” said Larry. “It will not take up much room, and I may find a use for it.”
“Very well,” spoke his mother. “But these other papers you had better destroy.”
Larry looked them over, and, seeing they all referred to the farm they had recently left, and which they no longer had a claim on, he tossed them into the fire. The other deed, however, he carefully put away. Though he did not know it, the time was coming when it would prove of great worth to him and his mother.