"We hate to lose you," Mr. George Woodhull said; "but we are anxious for your advancement, and shall on that account even hasten your going. Only remember, your vacations are to be spent right here. I'll pay you more for the sight of your face than any one else will for a whole week's work." And he turned away to hide his own deep feeling.
Later, Mr. Jacob Woodhull came around to the barn, where Ray was alone. He helped the boy finish the few chores that remained to be done, and then leaning back against the stanchion of one of the stalls, he asked:
"Do you remember, Ray, the night when you came over to my place and offered to pay me for the damage you had done me?"
"Yes," replied Ray; "and I hope you think better of me to-night than you did then."
"I certainly do," the old man replied, emphatically; "but do you remember what I charged you then?"
"Why, twenty-five dollars," answered Ray.
"Exactly," assented Mr. Woodhull; "but, Ray, did it ever occur to you that I charged you about five times more than I ought to have done?"
"No, indeed!" said Ray. "I was the prime mover in all those scrapes, and I ought to have been made to pay dearly for them."
"Only your share," said the old man, sharply, "and I never regarded but five dollars of that money as mine. The other twenty I invested for you, and it is just wonderful how the Lord has multiplied it. I have only been keeping it until I thought you would really need it, and when my nephew told me how you had given all your money to help George, and that you were going to the academy, I said, 'There, Jacob Woodhull, that boy'll need that money now, if he ever does—at least, he'll need a part of it;' so I've brought it down to you. This is only the first installment, but perhaps it is all you'll need just now; the rest is well invested, and when you want it, let me know. Here," and he took out a roll of bills from his pocket, and extended it toward Ray.
"Not a cent of it belongs to me," said Ray. "You ought to have it all."