"Why a sad time, father?"
"The squire will foreclose to-morrow."
"No, he won't foreclose, father. I will stop it."
"But how can you prevent it, my son?"
"By paying the three thousand dollars, father."
"Have you got the money?" asked his father, incredulously.
"Yes."
"But how—?"
"Don't ask me any questions, father. Be satisfied with the knowledge that I have got it."
"Heaven be praised!" said the farmer, fervently.