"That would be very kind," said Grant, feeling that he had done the deacon an injustice. "Of course," the deacon resumed, hastily, "I should have to charge interest. In fact, I was goin' to lend out the money to a neighbor for a month at one per cent; but I'd just as lieve let your father have it at that price." "Isn't that more than legal interest?" asked Grant. "Well, you see, money is worth good interest nowadays. Ef your father don't want it, no matter. I can let the other man have it." Grant rapidly calculated that the interest would only amount to fifty cents, and money must be had. "I think father'll agree to your terms," he said. "I'll let you know this afternoon." "All right, Grant. It don't make a mite of difference to me, but if your father wants the money he'll have to speak for it to-day." "I'll see that the matter is attended to," said Grant, and he went on his way, pleased with the prospect of obtaining money for their impoverished household, even on such hard terms. Next he made his way to Mr. Tudor's store. It was one of those country variety stores where almost everything in the way of house supplies can be obtained, from groceries to dry goods. Mr. Tudor was a small man, with a parchment skin and insignificant features. He was in the act of weighing out a quantity of sugar for a customer when Grant entered. Grant waited till the shopkeeper was at leisure. "Did you want to see me, Grant?" said Tudor. "Yes, Mr. Tudor. You sent over a bill to our house this morning." "And you've come to pay it. That's right. Money's tight, and I've got bills to pay in the city." "I've got a little money for you on account," said Grant, watching Tudor's face anxiously. "How much?" asked the storekeeper, his countenance changing.