“Your true friend,
“HENRY MORTON.”
Frank understood at once that the acquaintance referred to must be the clerk, whose evidence was so important to Mr. Morton's case. Being enjoined to secrecy, however, he, of course, felt that he was not at liberty to mention this.
One day succeeded another until at length the morning of the thirtieth of June dawned. Mr. Morton had not yet arrived; but, on the other hand, nothing had been heard from Squire Haynes.
Frank began to breathe more freely. He persuaded himself that he had been foolishly apprehensive. “The squire means to renew the mortgage,” he said to himself hopefully.
He had a talk with his mother, and she agreed that it would be well to pay the four hundred dollars they could spare, and have a new mortgage made out for the balance. Frank accordingly rode over to Brandon in the forenoon, and withdrew from the bank the entire sum there deposited to his father's credit. This, with money which had been received from Mr. Morton in payment of his board, made up the requisite amount.
About four o'clock in the afternoon, as Mrs. Frost was sewing at a front window, she exclaimed to Frank, who was making a kite for his little brother Charlie, “Frank, there's Squire Haynes coming up the road.”
Frank's heart gave an anxious bound.
“Is he coming here?” he asked, with anxiety.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Frost, after a moment's pause. Frank turned pale with apprehension.