“This can’t be possible! How could you—a boy of sixteen—gain so much money?”
“Partly at the mines, partly by speculating in real estate in San Francisco. But I will give you particulars hereafter. Are the Bartletts living at the farm?”
“Yes; but I hear Mrs. Bartlett wants to sell it. She and Rodney want to go to a city to live.”
“And you didn’t get a cent from the estate?”
“No; Mrs. Bartlett offered me twenty-five dollars.”
“Which you very properly refused. No matter! You won’t need to depend on that family for anything. You’ve got a rich son.”
At this moment a buggy drove into the yard.
“That’s Mr. Wilkins come for me,” said Mrs. Tarbox. “Don’t you think it will be best for me to accept the engagement?”
“No, mother: I shall provide you with a home of your own, and give you enough to keep it up. I will buy back the house that used to be ours when father was alive.”
“O Grant, if you can!”