ied Mr. Camp, smiling again; "wait
till your arm is well, and then we will talk it all over. In the
meantime"--and a twinkle came into his eyes--"you have one well arm, and
I guess that's all Liddy needs just at present."

The autumn and winter evenings sped by on wings of wind to Liddy and her
lover, for all the sweet illusions of life were theirs. Occasionally
they called on some of their old schoolmates, or were invited to social
gatherings, and how proud she was of her manly escort, and he of the
fair girl he felt was all his own, need not be told.

One day in the spring Mr. Camp said to Manson: "How would you like to be
a farmer?"

"I have no objections," he replied; "my father is one, and there is no
reason why I should be ashamed of it. It means hard work, but I am used
to that. I am ready and willing to do anything to earn an honest
living."

Mr. Camp looked at him for a moment reflectively, and then said:

"That has the right ring in it, my boy," and after thinking a little
longer added: "I'll tell you what I'll do. Charles, if you can get Liddy
to set the day I will give her a deed of the house and you a deed of the
farm, provided you two will take care of me. That's fair, isn't it?"
Then he added, with a smile, "I guess you can coax her consent if you
try hard."

The proposition was so unexpected and surprising that for a moment
Manson could not speak, and then, when it all came to him, and he saw
the door of his dream of happiness opened wide by such an offer, the
tears almost started. For one instant he was in danger of yielding, but
he recovered himself.

"No mere words can possibly express my gratitude, sir," he replied, "but
I could not accept so much. All I ask for, and all I will accept is
Liddy, and that is enough. To let you give me your farm would make me
feel that I was robbing you. I could not do it, sir."

And then, as he saw a look of pain come into his would-be benefactor's
face, he continued: "Now, I will tell you what I am willing, and should
be more than glad to do. Let Liddy and me keep house for you, and I will
manage the farm, under your direction. That is enough, and all I can
accept."

"I respect your feeling of independence," replied Mr. Camp, a little
sadly, "but it won't work. A young man, to be content, must feel that he
has a home that is, or soon will be, all his own. I do not want to put a
burden on your feelings, but I want to make both you and my child happy,
and"--