Adin Dunham's ride to Rockmount had been uneventful. He went at once to the real estate office of Thomas Marks, the agent through whom the sale had been effected. When he entered the office it was with a light step and a joyful look, for it was on a very agreeable errand he had come.

Mr. Marks was seated at his desk, and looked up as Dunham entered.

"I thought you wouldn't fail to come, Mr. Dunham," he said with a smile. "If it were to pay money, there might have been some question of it, but a man doesn't generally miss an appointment to receive a payment of a thousand dollars."

"That's so, Mr. Marks, I've been looking forward to this day."

"I've no doubt of it. I suppose such occasions are rare with you."

"This is the first time I was ever lucky enough to receive a large sum of money. I can hardly believe I am so rich. You, see, Mr. Marks, I am a poor man, and always have been. I inherited the place where I live from my father, but no money to speak of."

"Is the place clear?"

"No; it is mortgaged for eight hundred dollars."

"Who holds the mortgage?"

"Squire Bates, of our village."

"I know him. He is the man with very prominent teeth."

"Yes."

"Is he a rich man?"

"We all think so, but he keeps his affairs very close."

"Don't the assessors know?"

"He says most of his property is in government bonds, and these are not taxable, you know."

"To be sure."

"I don't know how it is," said the agent, thoughtfully, "but I don't like that man."

"He is always obligin' enough to me. Last time I made him wait a week for the interest, but he did not complain."

"I suppose he felt sure of getting it. How much interest do you pay?"

"Seven per cent."

"You ought only to pay six. You will find it hard to get more than that for your money. Shall you pay the mortgage with the money I am to pay you?"

"I did think of it, but the squire doesn't seem to care for me to do it. He says he can find a good investment for me."

"At what price do you value your house and land?"

"I don't suppose I could get over two thousand dollars for it."

"That would leave you twelve hundred after the mortgage is paid."

"Yes. If I pay it off with this thousand, there would be two hundred dollars left over."

"Exactly."

"To tell the truth, I think myself in great good luck to get so much for my land here. When Uncle Dan left it to me I didn't suppose it was worth over two hundred dollars altogether, and I don't believe I could have got any more. You see it is very poor land to cultivate."

"True enough, but the site was commanding. For the hotel company it is a good purchase."

"I suppose it is, but nobody thought of a hotel being built at the time I inherited the land from my uncle. Probably he thought it worth little or nothing, for he didn't like me overmuch, and didn't care to do much for me."

"Then it is better for you that he couldn't foresee the prospective value of his bequest. It might have led to an alteration in his will."

"No doubt it would. When are the hotel folks goin' to build?"

"They have got the cellar dug and the frame up already. Didn't you know that?"

"No; I haven't been up that way."

"Better go by it on your return. They would like to have had it ready for occupation this season, but they have begun too late for that. I understand that it may be thrown open for fall boarders if it should be completed by the middle of August."

"What would Uncle Dan say if he were alive to see it?"

"It would make the old man open his eyes, beyond a doubt. Now, Mr. Dunham, how will you receive this money? Shall I give you a check?"

"No; I shouldn't know what to do with a check. I never received a check in my life," said Adin Dunham, shaking his head.

All bank matters were unknown to the carpenter, except that he had once a small deposit in a savings bank, but he never could get rid of the fear that the bank would break, and he finally drew it out to get his mind at rest.

"A check would be safer, I think," said the agent.

"How can it be safer? The bank might break before I got the money."

Thomas Marks smiled.

"From what I know of the bank this is hardly likely, I think," he made answer. "However, I don't presume to advise. I mean that if you should lose the check, or have it stolen, it would not be a serious loss."

"Why not?"

"Because it will be made payable to your order, and unless indorsed by you, that is, with your signature written on the back, it would do the finder, or thief, no good."

"I don't mean to lose it, and I am not likely to meet any robbers, though my wife and Squire Bates told me I must be careful."

"Squire Bates told you that, did he?"

"Yes."

"He knows, then, that you are to receive this money to-day?"

"Yes; I told him."

"Did you tell any one else?"

"No."

"That is well. It is always best to be cautious in such cases; though I can hardly imagine, myself, that there could be any highway robbers in a quiet farming town like Waterford."

"Just what I told my wife, Mr. Marks."

"Then you will take the money in bills?"

"Yes, sir, if you please."

The agent went to a safe on the opposite side of the room, and opened it.

"That's a queer sort of a cupboard, Mr. Marks," said Adin Dunham.

The agent smiled.

"Yes," he answered. "If you are going to keep the money in your house, you may have to buy one."

"How much does it cost?"

"I gave a hundred and twenty-five dollars for this," he said.

Adin Dunham whistled. He had not supposed it would cost over fifteen.

"I shan't buy one," he said.

"You had better not. You will soon be investing the money, no doubt, so that there will be no occasion. I would pay off the mortgage if I were you."

"It wouldn't seem as if I had the money at all if I did that. Besides, the squire says he will find an investment for me."

"Meanwhile I hope you won't be as foolish as a man I was reading of the other day, living in Vermont."

"How was that?"

"He put a hundred dollars in an air tight stove for safe keeping. He was afraid his wife would see it and want to spend it if he put it in a trunk or bureau drawer. As it turned out, he had better have taken his wife into his confidence. Not knowing that the stove was doing service as a bank, she kindled a fire in it one damp day, and that was the last of the hundred dollars."

"I don't think I shall put the money in the stove, though it is June," said Adin Dunham. "Besides, my wife knows all about it, and she isn't one of the spendin' kind."

"That is lucky for you. Well, here is a pile of fifty-dollar bills—twenty of them. I will count them before you, so that you may see they are all right, and then you may give me a receipt."

So the thousand dollars were counted out, and Adin Dunham put them into his capacious pocket, which perhaps in its history of five years had never contained in the aggregate so large a sum of money.

The carpenter breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction. The moment he had so long anticipated had arrived, and he carried with him a sum which seemed to him a fortune, all his, and all to be disposed of as he willed. He straightened up unconsciously, for he felt that he had become a person of importance.

He jumped into his buggy, and when he had finished his errands in Rockmount, he started in the direction of home.