Peter Thompson looked at the clock.
"I must go to dinner now. Will you dine with me?"
Had his uncle been alone Randy might have accepted the offer, but he remembered the reception his aunt had given him and so declined.
"I think I had better get back to Riverport," he said. "I will tell mother and father about the twelve-acre lot and see what they have to say about it."
"Very well."
"Would you mind giving me a slip of paper so that we can prove we have a right to occupy the place?" pursued Randy. "Some folks may try to dispute our right. I know one man who pastures cows there."
"He has no right to do so. Here, I will give you a paper in due form."
Whatever his other shortcomings, Peter Thompson was not a slipshod business man. He drew up a paper in due form, stating that his brother could occupy the little farm for five years, rent-free, and if he wished to do so could at any time in said five years buy the little farm for one hundred and fifty dollars, payable at the rate of fifty dollars per year, without interest.
"And now good-by and good luck to you," said he as he handed the paper to Randy. "Some day, if I can get the time, I may call upon you. But I rarely go away from home."
Randy shook hands and left, and in a minute more was riding home on the bicycle.