He says he has met with good friends."

"Indeed! How does his money hold out?"

"He does not speak of that."

"Oh, well, I dare say he is getting along well;" and the squire walked
on.

"Does he feel interested in Tom, or not?" queried Mark Nelson, as he
looked thoughtfully after the squire, as he walked on with stately
steps, leaning slightly on his gold-headed cane. He might have been
enlightened on this point, if he could have heard a conversation, later
in the day, between Squire Hudson and his son Sinclair.

"I saw Mark Nelson this morning," he observed at the supper table.

"Has he heard from Tom?"

"Yes; his son wrote him from Cincinnati."

"I wish I could go to Cincinnati," grumbled Sinclair; "I think I have a
better right to see the world than Tom Nelson."

"All in good time, my son. Tom is not traveling for pleasure."

"Still, he is getting the pleasure."

"He will have to work hard when he reaches California. Probably he won't
have a cent left when he gets there."

"What will he do then?"

"He must earn money."

"Do you think he will do well, father?"

"He may, and then again he may not," answered the squire judicially.

"If he don't, how is he going to pay you back the money you lent him?"

"I always thought your father was foolish to lend his money to a boy
like that," said Mrs. Hudson querulously.

"Women know nothing about business," said the squire, with an air of
superior wisdom.

"Sometimes men don't know much," retorted his wife.

"If you refer to me, Mrs. Hudson," said her husband, "you need have no
anxiety. I did not lend the money to the boy, but to his father."

"That isn't much better. Everybody knows that Mark Nelson has all that
he can do to get along. His wife hasn't had a new dress for years."

The squire's face grew hard and stern. He had never loved his wife, and
never forgiven Mrs. Nelson, whom he had loved as much as he was capable
of doing, for refusing his hand.

"She has made her bed and she must lie upon it," he said curtly. "She
might have known that Mark Nelson would never be able to provide for
her."

"Perhaps she never had any other offer," said Mrs. Hudson, who was
ignorant of a certain passage of her husband's life.

"Probably she did, for she was a very pretty girl."

"Then she's faded," said Mrs. Hudson, tossing her head.

Squire Hudson did not reply; but as his eyes rested on the sharp,
querulous face of his helpmate, and he compared it menta