roved on inspection to be an excellent horse, if appearances were
to be trusted, and Ethel assured Mr. Merrick that the steed was both
gentle and intelligent.

"Do you use that surrey?" inquired Uncle John, pointing to a neat
vehicle that seemed to be nearly new.

"Very seldom, sir. Grandmother would like to sell it with the horse."

"It's exactly what I need," declared Mr. Merrick. "How much for Joe and
his harness, and the surrey?"

"I'll go and ask what grandmother wants."

She returned after a few minutes, stating a figure that made Uncle John
lift his brows with a comical expression.

"A hundred dollars! Do you take me for a brigand, little girl? I know
what horses are worth, for I've bought plenty of 'em. Your Joe seems
sound as a dollar, and he's just in his prime. A hundred and fifty is
dirt cheap for him, and the surrey will be worth at least seventy-five.
Put in the harness at twenty-five, and I'll give you two-fifty for the
outfit, and not a cent more or less. Eh?"

"No, indeed," said Ethel. "We could not get more than a hundred dollars
from anyone else around here."

"Because your neighbors are countrymen, and can't afford a proper
investment. So when they buy at all they only give about half what a
thing is actually worth. But I'll be honest with you. The price I offer
is a good deal less than I'd have to pay in the city--Hutchinson would
charge me five hundred, at least--and I need just what you've got to
sell. What do you say, Miss Ethel?"

"The price is one hundred dollars, Mr. Merrick."

"I won't pay it. Let me talk with your grandmother."

"She does not see anyone, sir."

Louise looked up sharply, scenting another clue.

"Isn't she well, dear?" she asked in smooth tones.

"She looks after grandfather, and helps Aunt Lucy with the housework."

"Well, come, Louise; we'll go home," said Uncle John, sadly. "I'd hoped
to be able to drive this fine fellow back, but Dan'll have to groan an'
balk all the way to the farm."

Ethel smiled.

"Better buy at my price, Mr. Merrick," she suggested.

"Tell you what I'll do," he said, pausing. "I'll split the difference.
Take two hundred and well call it a bargain."

"But I cannot do that, sir."

"It will help pay you for the hard work of fixing up the house," he
rejoined, pleadingly. "Your bill wasn't half enough."

"My bill?" wonderingly.

"The one I paid McNutt for your services."

"I made no charge, sir. I could not accept anything for a