beside the road. The
Murch family lived a mile beyond the Old Squire's to the northwest.

The quiet of the walk homeward was somewhat broken in upon, however, by
a scuffle and some hard words betwixt Halstead and Alfred Batchelder.

As we came near the great gate opening into our lane, Theodora walked up
to the house with me, a little behind the others, and told me,
confidentially--for my good, I suppose--that Alfred Batchelder was
deemed a reckless chap whose character was not above reproach. I, on my
part, seized the opportunity to proffer Halstead's petition for the loan
of twenty-five cents.

"I could lend it to him," she replied, "and so can Ellen, I think."

But she seemed thoughtful, and by and by asked me to tell her all that
Halstead had said. I did so, and added that he did not wish Addison to
know about it.

"I am sorry for that," she said, "for I should like to ask Ad's advice.
But I suppose we had better not tell him, if Halse is unwilling."

Later that evening she gave me the money, along with twenty-five cents
from Ellen. I handed it to Halstead that night, a dollar and a quarter
in all. He appeared much pleased.

"Does Ad know it, or the old gent?" he asked me, and cried, "Good!" when
I said they did not.

He sat on the side of the bed and tossed up the five quarter pieces,
catching them as they fell.

"I know a way to get plenty of these fellers," he remarked to me at
length.

"What makes you borrow of the girls, then?" I asked.

"O, you needn't be scared. I'll soon pay you all," he retorted.

But I had begun to doubt that the money was to pay for a poor farmer's
seed-corn.

CHAPTER VIII

"OLD THREE-LEGS"

Monday morning dawned bright and very warm. As we were about to sit down
to breakfast, Catherine Edwards called at the door and left a letter for
me, from my mother, which had arrived at the Corners post-office on
Saturday, but which Neighbor Edwards, who had brought the mail for us
late that evening, had overlooked; my letter had consequently lain over,
in his coat pocket, until that morning, when he had chanced to discover
it.

My mother had written me a very nice letter, as such letters go,
exhorting me to good behavior in general; and if she had stopped short
at that point, it would have been better. She went on, however, to tell
me of affairs at home, of what she was doing, of "Bush," our cat, of the
canary, of three or four boys and girls with whom I was acquainted,