“I think you must excuse me, Jeremiah,” said Simon Dodge, quietly.
“It would set me on my feet,” said Brackett.
As he leaned against the well curb in a languid attitude, it really seemed as if he needed somebody or something to set him on his feet.
“I think you will have to look for the money somewhere else,” replied his father-in-law.
“I thought you was having some interest coming in at this time, father.”
“Jeremiah, I gave you the farm, and with good management, you never need to borrow. It ought to support you handsomely, as it did me. I have told you that more than once.”
Simon Dodge left his son-in-law, and entered the house.
“How the old miser hangs on to his money!” growled Brackett. “He’s getting more and more selfish and mean as he grows older. I wish he’d make his will. If he should die now, I’m afraid them Eastern relatives would be after the property.”
Just then, however, his attention was drawn to a boy, with a bundle under his arm, who was entering the gate. It was Andy.