"What's the trouble?" she said, and Gramps looked up sharply.
"There's no trouble," Bud said.
"You can tell me, Allan. We're here to help you."
"If you're in a jam, Bud, we're on your side," Gramps said. "What'd you do? Sock the principal?"
"Honestly there's no trouble," Bud said. "Mr. Demarest and I talked about agriculture college."
"How nice," Gram said. "Every one of our boys and girls has gone to college. Now the twelfth will go, too."
"No he won't," Bud said. "Mr. Demarest said I hardly need a degree in agriculture if I'm going to stay here and take over Bennett's Farm. He said I can learn what I must know about poultry husbandry and berry culture as I go along."
"You're a right handy young feller at a lot of things," Gramps said. "But you're 'bout the poorest liar I ever laid eyes on. Joe Demarest never told you that."
"Well," Bud stammered, "not exactly. We had quite a talk."
"About what?"