his hands."

Frank tried to feel that he was foolish in apprehending trouble from
Squire Haynes, but he found it impossible to rid himself of a vague
feeling of uneasiness.

He made application to another farmer--an intimate friend of his
father's--but he had just purchased and paid for a five-acre lot
adjoining his farm, and that had stripped him of money. He, too,
bade Frank lay aside all anxiety, and assured him that his fears were
groundless.

With this Frank had to be content.

"Perhaps I am foolish," he said to himself. "I'll try to think no more
about it."

He accordingly returned to his usual work, and, not wishing to trouble
his mother to no purpose, resolved not to impart his fears to her.
Another ground of relief suggested itself to him. Mr. Morton would
probably be back on the 27th of June. Such, at least, was his
anticipation when he went away. There was reason to believe that he
would be both ready and willing to take up the mortgage, if needful.
This thought brought back Frank's cheerfulness.

It was somewhat dashed by the following letter which he received a day
or two later from his absent friend. It was dated New York, June 25,
1863. As will appear from its tenor, it prepared Frank for a further
delay in Mr. Morton's arrival.

"DEAR FRANK: I shall not be with you quite as soon as I intended. I
hope, however, to return a day or two afterward at latest. My business
is going on well, and I am assured of final success. Will you ask your
mother if she can accommodate an acquaintance of mine for a day or two?
I shall bring him with me from New York, and shall feel indebted for the
accommodation.

"Your true friend,

"HENRY MORTON."

Frank understood at once that the acquaintance referred to must be
the clerk, whose evidence was so important to Mr. Morton's case. Being
enjoined to secrecy, however, he, of course, felt that he was not at
liberty to mention this.

One day succeeded another until at length the morning of the thirtieth
of June dawned. Mr. Morton had not yet arrived; but, on the other hand,
nothing had been heard from Squire Haynes.

Frank began to breathe more freely. He persuaded himself that he had
been foolishly apprehensive. "The squire means to renew the mortgage,"
he said to himself hopefully.

He had a talk with his mother, and she agreed that it would be well to
pay the four hundred dollars they could spare, and have a new mortgage
made out for the balance. Frank a