While Tom was slowly making his way westward, there was one place where tidings from him were anxiously awaited, and where nightly prayers were offered for his health and safe progress. Of course this was the dear, though humble, farmhouse, which had been his home.

Twice a week Tom wrote, and his letters were cheerful and reassuring.

"Tom is growing manly, Mary," said Mark Nelson to his wife. "It's doing him good to see a little of the world."

"I suppose it is, Mark," said his wife; "but the more I think of it the more I feel that he is very young to undertake such a long journey alone."

"He is young, but it will make a man of him."

"He must be having a tip-top time," said Walter; "I wish I were with him."

"You would be more of a hindrance than a help to him, Walter," said Mark Nelson.

"You are only a child, you know," said Sarah, in an elder-sister tone.

"What do you call yourself?" retorted Walter. "You are only two years older than I am."

"Girls always know more than boys of the same age," said Sarah condescendingly. "Besides, I haven't said anything about going out to California."

"No, I should think not. A girl that's afraid of a mouse had better stay at home."

Walter referred to an incident of the day previous, when the sudden appearance of a mouse threw Sarah into a panic.

"Are there any mouses in California?" asked little Harry, with interest.

"If there are I could carry a cat with me," returned Sarah good-humoredly.

Mark Nelson, though he felt Tom was a boy to be trusted, did ask himself occasionally whether he had been wise in permitting him to leave home under the circumstances. Suppose he continued in health, there were doubts of his success. His golden dreams might not be realized. The two hundred dollars which he had raised for Tom might be lost, and bring in no return; and this would prove a serious loss to Mark, hampered as he was already by a heavy mortgage on his farm. Would Squire Hudson be forbearing, if ill-luck came? This was a question he could not answer. He only knew that such was not the squire's reputation.

"Well, Mr. Nelson, what do you hear from Tom," asked the squire, one day about this time. "How far is he on his way?"

"We received a letter from Cincinnati yesterday. He then was about starting for St. Joseph."

"Does he seem to enjoy the journey?"

"He writes in excellent spirits. He says he has met with good friends."

"Indeed! How does his money hold out?"

"He does not speak of that."

"Oh, well, I dare say he is getting along well;" and the squire walked on.

"Does he feel interested in Tom, or not?" queried Mark Nelson, as he looked thoughtfully after the squire, as he walked on with stately steps, leaning slightly on his gold-headed cane. He might have been enlightened on this point, if he could have heard a conversation, later in the day, between Squire Hudson and his son Sinclair.

"I saw Mark Nelson this morning," he observed at the supper table.

"Has he heard from Tom?"

"Yes; his son wrote him from Cincinnati."

"I wish I could go to Cincinnati," grumbled Sinclair; "I think I have a better right to see the world than Tom Nelson."

"All in good time, my son. Tom is not traveling for pleasure."

"Still, he is getting the pleasure."

"He will have to work hard when he reaches California. Probably he won't have a cent left when he gets there."

"What will he do then?"

"He must earn money."

"Do you think he will do well, father?"

"He may, and then again he may not," answered the squire judicially.

"If he don't, how is he going to pay you back the money you lent him?"

"I always thought your father was foolish to lend his money to a boy like that," said Mrs. Hudson querulously.

"Women know nothing about business," said the squire, with an air of superior wisdom.

"Sometimes men don't know much," retorted his wife.

"If you refer to me, Mrs. Hudson," said her husband, "you need have no anxiety. I did not lend the money to the boy, but to his father."

"That isn't much better. Everybody knows that Mark Nelson has all that he can do to get along. His wife hasn't had a new dress for years."

The squire's face grew hard and stern. He had never loved his wife, and never forgiven Mrs. Nelson, whom he had loved as much as he was capable of doing, for refusing his hand.

"She has made her bed and she must lie upon it," he said curtly. "She might have known that Mark Nelson would never be able to provide for her."

"Perhaps she never had any other offer," said Mrs. Hudson, who was ignorant of a certain passage of her husband's life.

"Probably she did, for she was a very pretty girl."

"Then she's faded," said Mrs. Hudson, tossing her head.

Squire Hudson did not reply; but as his eyes rested on the sharp, querulous face of his helpmate, and he compared it mentally with the pleasant face of Mrs. Nelson, he said to himself that, faded or not, the latter was still better looking than his wife had been in the days of her youth. Of course it would not do to say so, for Mrs. Hudson was not amiable.

"Mark Nelson has given me security," said the squire, returning to the point under discussion. "I hold a mortgage on his farm for the whole amount he owes me."

"Do you think you shall have to foreclose, father?" asked Sinclair.

"If Tom does not succeed in California, I probably shall," said the squire.

"Do you think he will succeed?"

"He may be able to make a living, but I don't think he will be able to help his father any."

"Then why did you lend him the money?"

"He wanted to go, and was willing to take the risk. I lent the money as a business operation."

"Suppose Mr. Nelson loses his farm, what will he do?" inquired Sinclair.

"I really don't know," answered the squire, shrugging his shoulders. "That is no concern of mine."

"Tom wouldn't put on so many airs if his father had to go to the poorhouse," said Sinclair.

"Does he put on airs?"

"He seems to think he is as good as I am," said Squire Hudson's heir.

"That is perfectly ridiculous," said Mrs. Hudson. "The boy must be a fool."

"He is no fool," said the squire, who did not allow prejudice to carry him so far as his wife and son. "He is a boy of very fair abilities; but I apprehend he will find it harder to make his fortune than he anticipated. However, time will show."

"Most likely he'll come home in rags, and grow up a day-laborer," said Sinclair complacently. "When I'm a rich man I'll give him work. He won't feel like putting on airs, then."

"What a good heart Sinclair has!" said Mrs. Hudson admiringly.

Squire Hudson said nothing. Possibly the goodness of his son's heart was not so manifest to him.