"At the store. He got home by coach last evening."
"Got discontented, I suppose," said the squire, in a tone of triumph. "I thought that was how it would turn out. He can't expect me to advance money to take him out there again."
"I wish you would let me go," said Sinclair.
"Some day I may take a trip out there with you, my son. Have you seen Thomas?"
"No, he keeps mighty close. He hasn't even been round at the store."
"He is ashamed to show himself, I suppose. He will have to work on the farm—on a farm again."
"I suppose that will be a hard pill for him to swallow," said Sinclair.
"No doubt. He is poor and proud, like his father before him. I am glad of one thing,—that I am sure of getting back the two hundred dollars I advanced for his journey. I wonder where he raised money to get back."
Though there were not likely to be any competitors for the farm, a considerable number gathered at the sale. There was a general feeling of sympathy for the Nelsons, but no one was able to express that sympathy in a tangible form, Squire Hudson cared little for the opinion of his neighbors. Some of them were in debt to him, and he looked down upon them with the arrogance of wealth.