“No, but undoubtedly Squire Haynes will be willing to renew it. I always pay the interest promptly, and he knows it is secured by the farm, and therefore a safe investment. By the way, I had nearly forgotten to say that there will be some interest due on the first of January. Of course, you are authorized to pay it just as if you were myself.”
“How much will it be?”
“Twenty-four dollars—that is, six months' interest at six per cent. on eight hundred dollars.”
“I wish the farm were free from encumbrance,” said Frank.
“So do I; and if Providence favors me it shall be before many years are past. But in farming one can't expect to lay by money quite as fast as in some other employments.”
The old clock in the corner here struck eleven.
“We mustn't keep you up too late the last night, Henry,” said Mrs. Frost. “You will need a good night's sleep to carry you through to-morrow.”
Neither of the three closed their eyes early that night. Thoughts of the morrow were naturally in their minds. At last all was still. Sleep—God's beneficent messenger—wrapped their senses in oblivion, and the cares and anxieties of the morrow were for a time forgotten.