he lad, and it
added much to the misery of his indebtedness that his obligation was to
him. He was growing an old man, conscious of his increasing weakness
and inability to cope with difficulties, and he believed his "enemy," as
he called him, to be capable of taking advantage of these. His faith
failed him sometimes, and in his anxiety and unhappiness, he uttered
harder words than he knew.

Everybody in Gershom knew of his debt, but no one knew what made the
bitterness of his indebtedness to the old man. The part which Jacob
Holt had had in the trouble, that had come on him through his son, had
never been clearly understood, and was now well-nigh forgotten in the
place. But the father had not forgotten it. He would gladly have
mortgaged his farm, or even have given up half of it altogether, to any
friend who could have advanced him the money to pay his debt, but no
such friend was at hand, and it ended, as all knew it must end, in a
seven years' mortgage being taken by Jacob Holt, and the only thing the
old man could do now was to keep silence and hope for better days.

The little Flemings were growing up healthy and happy, a great comfort
and a great care to their grandparents. They were bright and pretty
children, and good children on the whole, the neighbours said, and they
said also, that there seemed to be no reason why the last days of the
old people should not be contented and comfortable, notwithstanding
their burden of debt. For the Holts would never be hard on such old
neighbours, and as the boys grew up, to take the weight of the farm-work
on them, the debt might be paid, and all would go well. This was the
hopeful view of the matter taken by Mrs Fleming also, but the old man
always listened in silence to such words.

When five years had past, no part of the debt had yet been paid. Even
the interest had been in part paid with borrowed money, and there were
other signs and tokens that the Flemings were going back in the world.
It was not to be wondered at; for Mr Fleming was an old man, and the
greater part of the farm-work had to be done by hired help, at a cost
which the farm could ill bear. And the chances were, that for a while
at least the state of affairs would be worse rather than better.

Then there came to Mr Fleming this proposal from Jacob Holt. If
twenty-five acres of the swampy land that bordered the Beaver River just
where the brook fell into it were given up to him the mortgage sh