spense of it."

"Well," Donald replied, "I lived on twenty-five hundred a year in
college and led a happy life. I had a heap of fun, and nothing went by
me so fast that I didn't at least get a tail-feather. My college
education, therefore, cost me ten thousand dollars, and I managed to
squeeze a roadster automobile into that, also. With the remaining
ninety thousand, I took a flier in thirty-nine hundred acres of red
cedar up the Wiskah River. I paid for it on the instalment plan
--yearly payments secured by first mortgage at six per cent., and----"

"Who cruised it for you?" The Laird almost shouted. "I'll trust no
cruiser but my own David McGregor."

"I realized that, so I engaged Dave for the job. You will recall that
he and I took a two months' camping-trip after my first year in
Princeton. It cruised eighty thousand feet to the acre, and I paid two
dollars and a half per thousand for it. Of course, we didn't succeed
in cruising half of it, but we rode through the remainder, and it all
averaged up very nicely. And I saw a former cruise of it made by a
disinterested cruiser----"

The Laird had been doing mental arithmetic.

"It cost you seven hundred and eighty thousand dollars--and you've
paid ninety thousand, principal and interest, on account. Why, you
didn't have the customary ten per cent, of the purchase-price as an
initial payment!"

"The owner was anxious to sell. Besides, he knew I was your son, and I
suppose he concluded that, after getting ninety thousand dollars out
of me at the end of three years, you'd have to come to my rescue when
the balance fell due--in a lump. If you didn't, of course he could
foreclose."

"I'll save you, my son. It was a good deal--a splendid deal!"

"You do not have to, dad. I've sold it--at a profit of an even two
hundred thousand dollars!"

"Lad, why did you do it? Why didn't you take me into your confidence?
That cedar is worth three and a half. In a few years, 'twill be worth
five."

"I realized that, father, but--a bird in the hand is worth two in the
bush--and I'm a proud sort of devil. I didn't want to run to you for
help on my first deal, even though I knew you'd come to my rescue and
ask no questions. You've always told me to beware of asking favors,
you know. Moreover, I had a very friendly feeling toward the man I
sold my red cedar to; I hated to stick him too deeply."

"You were entitled to your profit, Donald. 'Twas business. You should
have taken it.