I wouldn't quite say _that_...."

"I have a letter from his mother. She wants to know about college."

"Well, how _are_ things?"

"Oh, I don't know; poor."

"That Iowa company?"

"Next year."

"Again?"

"Yes--next year; as usual."

"Well, I have news for you."

"Good?" he asked, picking up a little.

"That depends on how you look at it. I have a buyer for your house."

"Thank God!"

"Don't hurry to thank God. Perhaps you will want to thank the Devil."

Raymond's face fell. "You don't mean that _he_--on top of everything
else--has come forward to--?"

"My friend! my friend! It isn't that at all. 'He' has nothing to do with
it. Quite another party."

And it was. A Mr. Gluckstein, a sort of impresario made suddenly rich by
a few seasons with fiddlers and prima donnas, was the man. He was
willing, he said,--and I paid the news out as evenly and considerately
as I could,--he was willing to take the house and assume the
mortgage--but he asked a bonus of five thousand dollars for doing it.

"The scoundrel!" groaned Raymond, his face twisted by contemptuous rage.
"The impudent scoundrel!"

"Possibly so. But that is his offer--and the only one. And it is his
best."

Raymond sat with his eyes on the floor. He was afraid to let me see his
face. He hated the house--it was an incubus, a millstone; but--

He visibly despaired. "What shall I do about Albert's college, now?" he
muttered presently.

He seemed to have passed at a bound beyond the stage of sale and
transfer. The odious property was off his hands--and every hope of a
spare dollar had gone with it.

"His mother writes--" began Raymond.

"Yes?"

"She tells me--Well, her father died last month, it seems, and she is
expecting something out of his estate...."

"Estate? Is there one?"

"Who can say? A man in that business! There might be something; there
might be nothing or less. And it might take a year or more to get it."

"And if there is anything?"

"She says she will look after Albert's first year or two. I was about to
refuse, but I expect I shall have to listen now."

He was silent. Then he broke out:--

"But there won't be. That old woman with her water-waves and her
wrinkles is still hanging on; even if there should be anything, she
would be the one to get most of it. I know her--she would snatch it
all!"

"Listen, Raymond," I said; "you had better let _me_ help you here."

"I don't want you to. There must be some way to manage