o
dispute our right. I know one man who pastures cows there."

"He has no right to do so. Here, I will give you a paper in due form."

Whatever his other shortcomings, Peter Thompson was not a slipshod
business man. He drew up a paper in due form, stating that his brother
could occupy the little farm for five years, rent-free, and if he
wished to do so could at any time in said five years buy the little
farm for one hundred and fifty dollars, payable at the rate of fifty
dollars per year, without interest.

"And now good-by and good luck to you," said he as he handed the paper
to Randy. "Some day, if I can get the time, I may call upon you. But I
rarely go away from home."

Randy shook hands and left, and in a minute more was riding home on the
bicycle.

"Well, I think I've gained something," he thought, as he sped along.
"Anyway, we will have a roof over our heads and that is something. To
be sure, the cottage is a poor one, but poor folks can't have
everything as they want it."

When the boy arrived home he found his father had had another bad turn
but was now resting easier. Without delay he told of what had happened
at Deep Haven.

"Your aunt is a Tartar," said Louis Thompson. "I never liked her, and
that is why I and your Uncle Peter have drifted apart. I thought he had
sold the twelve-acre lot to Jerry Borden, who pastures his cows there."

"Jerry Borden will have to get out--that is, if we take possession,"
said Randy. "Mother, what do you think of it?"

"Is the cottage usable? I have not seen it for a year or more."

"It will have to be fixed up some. But I am sure I can do the work,
with father's tools."

"It will save the rent money."

"And I can plant a garden, even if it is late. And we can keep some
chickens, and then, after everything is in shape, I can again look for
outside work."

"Randy's idea is a good one," answered the boy's father. "Our month
will be up here next week. I'll notify the owner at once about
leaving."

The next morning Randy went over to the twelve-acre farm, a corner of
which sloped down to the river. He had passed it a hundred times
before, but it was with an entirely different feeling that he surveyed
it now.

It was pasture land, naturally good, but much neglected. A great many
stones needed to be removed and the fences wanted propping up and here
and there a new rail. The house, which faced a little side road, was a
story and a half in height, with two rooms b