The next morning Squire Bates rose half an hour before breakfast, and took a walk in the garden behind the house. He had his cane with him, which was unusual, as he was not leaving his own grounds. He proceeded to the lower end of the garden, and then, thrusting the point of the cane into the soft loam, made in this way a round hole, perhaps eight inches deep, into which he carefully dropped the solitary sleeve button, and then filled up the hole again.

"There," said he to himself in a tone of satisfaction, "that disposes of the button. Now Dean Dunham can say what he likes, he can't throw suspicion on me."

As he re-entered the house he met Brandon just coming downstairs.

"You're up early, papa," he said.

"Yes, I was tired of the bed and got up a few minutes earlier than usual."

"Have you been out?"

"Only walking in the garden a few minutes."

"Haven't you got a mortgage on Adin Dunham's place?"

"Yes."

"Suppose he doesn't pay up?"

"I don't think he is able to pay up."

"Can't you foreclose the mortgage?"

"Yes, but I shouldn't like to worry the old man—at present."

"I was thinking of Dean. He don't treat me with any respect. He doesn't seem to know that you could turn the whole family out of doors."

"You don't like Dean, I infer."

"No, I don't," said Brandon, bluntly.

"He is rather independent for a boy in his circumstances," said the squire, slowly. "Sometime he may regret it."

Squire Bates raised his eyebrows slightly, and his words conveyed a vague threat.

"However," he added, "he may become more sensible, and understand his position better. Let us hope he will."

Brandon was not slow in communicating what had been said to Dean. The next time they had a difference he said: "You'd better keep good friends with me, Dean Dunham."

"Why," asked Dean, struck by his tone.

"Because my father's got a mortgage on your uncle's place, and I may get him to turn you all out into the street."

"Has he any idea of doing it?" asked Dean, quickly.

"Not if you behave yourself—that is, not at present."

"Thank you! You are very kind to give me warning."

In the evening Dean spoke to his uncle about the matter.

"Uncle Adin," he said, "Squire Bates holds a mortgage on this place, doesn't he?"

"Yes, Dean," answered his uncle, sadly.

"For how much?"

"Eight hundred dollars. I meant to pay off the mortgage with the thousand dollars that I was robbed of. I always feel uneasy when I think of our home being at the mercy of any one, no matter who it is."

"Do you think the squire wants you to pay up the mortgage?"

"No; he said he was satisfied to have it remain, as it paid fair interest."

"Brandon Bates let drop a hint that his father might call it in, if I didn't treat him with more respect."

"Is there any quarrel between you two boys?" asked Adin, somewhat anxiously.

"Well, we don't agree very well. He wants me to bow down before him, and I don't mean to do it."

"I hope you won't quarrel seriously, Dean. His father holds me in his power, and it's best to keep on good terms with him."

"Uncle Adin, I wish you had been able to pay up that mortgage," said Dean, earnestly. "I don't like the squire much better than his son."

"I am afraid there is no hope of it now, Dean," said Adin Dunham, sighing, "unless I can get my lost money back."

"Uncle Adin, I want to help you pay the mortgage, and for that reason I want you to let me leave home."

"What have you got in your head, Dean? What good will it do to leave home?"

"I can earn some money. Here in Waterford there is no chance for a boy like me to get hold of any."

"It's a risky thing for a boy as young as you to start for himself, Dean. Besides there's John Roberts, the shoemaker, will take you into his shop and teach you the business. He told me last week he'd give you three dollars a week."

"I want to earn money faster than that, uncle. It would take all that to pay my expenses."

"What do you want me to do, Dean?"

"To let me leave home if a good chance offers."

"I'll see about it, Dean; but I'm afraid you're miscalculatin' your strength."

"Thank you, uncle, other boys have succeeded, and I think I can."

A day or two afterwards, Brandon said to his father, "What do you think Dean Dunham says?"

"I am sure I can't imagine," answered the squire, with a shade of uneasiness. He feared that Dean might have been speaking out his suspicions in relation to the robbery of his uncle.

"He says his uncle has consented to let him leave home if a good job offers. He wants to go out into the world to seek his fortune."

"It might not be a bad idea," said Bates.

"I don't think he'd meet with any success," said Brandon, sharply. "He thinks he is awful smart, and would come home with a fortune in six months."

"Boys are apt to be sanguine," said his father, smiling.

"Would you be willing to have me leave home to seek my fortune?"

"No; but your case is different. Dean's uncle is a poor man."

"I suppose he could black boots for a living in some large place."

"Well, bootblacks sometimes make very good pay."

"You seem to be in favor of Dean's going away, papa?"

"I feel no particular interest in the matter. I confess I don't like the boy, but for his uncle's sake I hope he may do well. And, now, Brandon, I must ask you to leave me, as I have some letters to write."

"That will be a good solution of the difficulty," soliloquized Renwick Bates, when he found himself alone. "The boy evidently suspects me, and I should like to get him out of the way. Some accident might happen to him, or he might get into some scrape. At any rate, his plan chimes in with my own wishes, and if I have an opportunity I will help him to leave Waterford."

Two days later, as Dean was walking home from the village store with a small basket of groceries, he met a stranger—a man with very dark hair and a sallow complexion. He was of medium size, and had a cast in one eye which gave a sinister expression to his face.

"I suppose you live in the village, boy?" he said.

"Yes, sir."

"Then perhaps you can direct me to the house of Renwick Bates."

"Squire Bates?"

"Is that what you call him?" asked the stranger, with an amused smile.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know him?"

"Yes, sir. I will conduct you to his house, if you wish."

"Thank you; I wish you would."

Dean had to go out of his way a short distance, but, being of an obliging disposition, he did so willingly.

"That is the house, sir."

"Thank you; I haven't any change, or I would pay you for your trouble."

"It is quite unnecessary," said Dean, hastily. "I don't care for any pay."

"Well, thank you, then."

"I wonder who that is," thought Dean. "I don't like his looks much, and I wish he hadn't offered me pay for guiding him. He doesn't seem to have been here before."

As the stranger turned into the front yard, he saw Brandon, sitting on the bank, whistling.

"I don't need to ask whose son you are," said the stranger, smiling.

"Why not?" demanded Brandon, haughtily.

"Those teeth are unmistakable, my young friend."

"Do you mean to insult me? Who are you, any way?" asked Brandon, imperiously.

"A friend of your father's who won't stand any impudence!" said the stranger, sharply. "Go into the house and tell him that Peter Kirby wishes to see him."

Cowed by the stranger's manner, Brandon sulkily obeyed.