That's natural, isn't, it ?" "Ye-es," answered Jackson.
"So, the sooner we fix matters the better.

I want to go back to New York to-morrow if I can." "I don't think I can give my answer as soon as that.

Wait a minute, though." A boy was approaching, Jackson's son, if one could judge from the resemblance, holding a letter in his hand.
"Come right here, Abner," he called out eagerly.
Abner approached, and his father snatched the letter from his hand.
It bore the New York postmark, but, on opening it, Jackson looked bitterly disappointed.

He had hoped it was from Mrs.Hamilton, accepting his offer for the farm; but, instead of that, it was an unimportant circular.
"I'll have to take time to think over your offer, Mr.Taylor," he said.

"You see, I'll have to talk over matters with the old woman." "By the way," said Taylor carelessly, "I was told in the village that you didn't own the farm--that it was owned by a lady in New York." "She used to own it," said the fanner, uneasily; "but I bought it of her a year ago." "So that you have the right to sell it ?" "Of course I have." "What have you to say to that, Ben ?" asked Taylor quietly.
"That if Mrs.Hamilton has sold the farm to Mr.Jackson she doesn't know it." "What do you mean, boy ?" gasped Jackson.
"I mean that when I left New York Mrs.Hamilton owned the farm." "It's a lie!" muttered the farmer; but he spoke with difficulty.