"I am going to the village on business. I shall be home in good season. Are you going my way, Grit?"
"Not just at present," answered Grit.
Mother and son looked at each other when they were alone.
"I suppose he's gone to the tavern," said Grit.
"Yes, I presume so," said his mother, sighing.
"Well, mother, I didn't give up the money."
"No, Grit, but he means to have it yet."
"He's welcome to it if he can get it," said the boy manfully.
"You haven't got the sixty dollars with you?" said his mother anxiously.