It may be said here that Mr. Grant owned a farm of fifty acres, that yielded him a comfortable living when supplemented by the interest on three thousand dollars invested in government bonds. On the farm was a house of moderate size which had always been a pleasant home to Andy and his little brother Robert, generally called Robbie.
Andy opened the gate and walked up to the front door, valise in hand.
The house and everything about it seemed just as it did when he left at the beginning of the school term. But Andy looked at them with different eyes.
Then he had been in good spirits, eager to return to his school work. Now something had happened, he did not yet know what.
Mrs. Grant was in the back part of the house, and Andy was in the sitting room before she was fully aware of his presence. Then she came in from the kitchen, where she was preparing supper.
Her face seemed careworn, but there was a smile upon it as she greeted her son.
"Then you got my telegram?" she said. "I didn't think you would be here so soon."
"I started at once, mother, for I felt anxious. What has happened? Are you all well?"
"Yes, thank God, we are in fair health, but we have met with misfortune."
"What is it?"