"Won't you walk in?"

"I suppose your father is at home?" said the squire, as he stepped into
the front entry.

"Yes, sir; he was expecting you."

Andy opened the door of the sitting room, and the squire entered. Mr.
Grant rose from the rocking-chair in which he was seated and welcomed
his visitor.

"I am glad to see you, squire," he said. "Take a seat by the fire."

"Thank you," said the squire, with dignity. "I came, as I said I would.
I do not desert an old neighbor because he has been unfortunate."

But for his patronizing tone his words would have awakened more
gratitude. As it was, his manner seemed to say: "See how kind-hearted I
am."

Somehow, Andy felt more and more sorry to think his father must be
indebted to such a man.

"It is getting quite fallish," said the squire, rubbing his hands. "I
suppose I am more sensitive to cold, as my home is heated throughout
with steam."

"I hope we shall be able to make you comfortable, Squire Carter,"
returned Mrs. Grant, who had entered the room in time to hear this last
speech.