"Now, you are going to be a regular member of the family," said Jessie, as she gave him a warm smile.
"I'm afraid yet that it is all a dream," said Dave, with a little laugh. "I can't really make myself believe that it's all true."
"You'll know it's true when you get to grinding away at your books."
"Oh, that won't bother me," answered Dave, with a smile.
One day when Dave was on an errand to the post office he met Nat Poole, the lordly son of the man who had held the mortgage on the farm. The young fellow was loudly dressed, and was smoking a cigarette.
"Say, you're Dave Porter, ain't you?" questioned Nat Poole, as he strode up to Dave.
"I am, and I believe you are Nat Poole," was the quiet answer.
"You've struck it rich since you moved to Wadsworth's place," sneered Nat Poole.
"I have struck it rich, for which I am thankful."
"Wadsworth must be a softy to take you in."
"I'd like to know what business it is of yours," retorted Dave.
"Humph! Can't I say what I think?"
"You say too much."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You came over to the farm on an errand for
