“I can afford to give her board for three months.”
“You are very kind, Mr. Pomeroy, but it wouldn’t be right for me to accept your kindness. It is my duty to take care of Grace.”
“I honor your independence, Frank. It shall be as you say. When you are able—mind, not till then—you may pay me at the rate of two dollars a week for Grace’s board.”
“Then,” said Frank, “if you are willing to board Grace for a while, I think I had better go to the city at once.”
“I will look over your clothes to-morrow, Frank,” said Mrs. Pomeroy, “and see if they need mending.”
“Then I will start Thursday morning—the day after.”
About four o’clock the next afternoon he was walking up the main street, when just in front of Deacon Pinkerton’s house he saw Tom leaning against a tree.
“How are you Tom?” he said, and was about to pass on.
“Where are you going?” Tom asked abruptly.
“To Mr. Pomeroy’s.”