“But he died poor.”
“He left behind him an invention, half of which we have sold for an income of a thousand dollars a year.”
“A thousand a year!” ejaculated the squire.
“Yes. I have sold it to the father of Mr. Cameron, who employed me last summer. You see, there is no occasion for our selling the house.”
“You have been very fortunate,” said Squire Leech, soberly. “I congratulate you both.”
“Thank you,” said Herbert, who privately thought their visitor looked excessively annoyed at their good fortune.
“I will see you about the house,” he said, as he rose to go.
“Well, the squire congratulated us,” said Herbert, after he went away; “but he didn't look happy when he did so. I shouldn't wonder if he accepted our terms, now that he knows we needn't sell.”
Herbert proved to be right. Two days later the squire offered six hundred dollars over the mortgage for the place, and it was accepted.
“The place is worth more, mother,” he said; “but it will relieve us from care to sell it.”