“Yes, I remember.”
“I am going to call on him, and I shall take the opportunity to make him a handsome present. It will surprise him, and I think it will be the first present of any size that he has received in his pastorate of over forty years.
“There he lives!” continued Jefferson, pointing out a very modest cottage on the left hand side of the road.
It needed painting badly, but it looked quite as well as the minister who came to the door in a ragged dressing gown. He was venerable looking, for his hair was quite white, though he was only sixty five years old. But worldly cares which had come upon him from the difficulty of getting along on his scanty salary had whitened his hair and deepened the wrinkles on his kindly face.
“I am glad to see you, Jefferson,” he said, his face lighting up with pleasure. “I heard you were in town and I hoped you wouldn’t fail to call upon me.”
“I was sure to call, for you were always a good friend to me as well as many others.”
“I always looked upon you as one of my boys, Jefferson. I hear that you have been doing well.”
“Yes, Mr. Canfield. I have done better than I have let people know.”
“Have you been to see your uncle? Poor man, he is in trouble.”
“He is no longer in trouble. The mortgage is paid off, and as far as Squire Sheldon is concerned he is independent.”