"Yes, sir," said Randy; "a little."
"I ask for this reason," pursued Mr. Thompson. "When your grandfather died he left to me a small farm in Riverport. It is not very good and has been used mostly as a pasture. I have been so occupied with other things that I could not look after it. Perhaps you may know something of it."
"Yes, sir, I do. It is about half a mile from our house, and is called the twelve-acre lot. But I didn"t know it belonged to you."
"It does. What I was going to say is that, although I am unable to give you such a.s.sistance as I should like, I will, if you wish it, give you the use of that lot, and the little cottage on it, rent-free so long as you care to use it. Perhaps you can put it to some use. Anyway, you can use the cottage."
Randy"s face lighted up, much to his uncle"s satisfaction. The land was not extra good and the cottage all but tumbled down, yet it was better than nothing. They could move out of the cottage in which they were now located, and thus save the monthly rent, which was eight dollars.
Besides that, Randy felt that he could do something with the garden, even though it was rather late in the season. Where they now lived there was little room to grow vegetables.
"You are sure you don"t want to use the place, Uncle Peter?" he asked.
"Not at all. You can use it as long as you please."
"Maybe you would like to sell it."
"Ahem! If you wish to buy it you can make an offer after you are on the place. I once offered it to a man for two hundred dollars, but he would not take me up."
"Then you will sell it for two hundred dollars?"
"I will sell it to you, or rather your father, for a hundred and fifty dollars."
"I"ll remember that, sir. It may be that we will like the place so much we shall want to buy--if we can raise the money."
"You can pay off the amount at the rate of fifty dollars per year if you wish."
"Thank you. You are kind and I appreciate it," and Randy meant what he said.
Peter Thompson looked at the clock.
"I must go to dinner now. Will you dine with me?"
Had his uncle been alone Randy might have accepted the offer, but he remembered the reception his aunt had given him and so declined.
"I think I had better get back to Riverport," he said. "I will tell mother and father about the twelve-acre lot and see what they have to say about it."
"Very well."
"Would you mind giving me a slip of paper so that we can prove we have a right to occupy the place?" pursued Randy. "Some folks may try to 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 pa.s.sed 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 below and two chambers above. There was a well that needed fixing and also a cistern. Around the cottage the weeds grew high, and one of the windows was out and a door was missing.
"I can fix this place up, I am sure of it," said the boy to himself.
He was making a mental note of what was to be done when he heard a noise on the road and saw a farmer approaching, driving a dozen cows before him. It was Jerry Borden, the man who had been using the pasture lot without paying for it.
"Hullo! What air you a-doin" here?" asked Jerry Borden, looking at Randy in some surprise.
"We are going to move over here, Mr. Borden," answered Randy, calmly.
"Move over here!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the farmer.
"Yes."
"In this air tumble-down cottage?"
"I am going to fix it up some."
"Well, I vow! It ain"t fit to live in!"
"It will be."
"An" the land ain"t wuth shucks."
"It seems to be good enough for the cows."
At this Jerry Borden"s face fell a little.