“What do you want of my mother, Mr. Dorsett?” demanded Frank, stepping to the open doorway.
“Oh, you’re here, are you?” snarled Dorsett.
“Frank, do not have any words with him,” spoke Mrs. Ismond, hastening to her son’s side.
Dorsett stood outside. With him was a low-browed fellow whom Frank recognized as a chronic hanger-on about the village justice’s place.
“I’ve come—with my deputy and witness, ma’am,” announced Dorsett, “to inform you that I have learned that you are about to leave town.”
“Yes, that is correct,” answered Mrs. Ismond.
“Very well, then here,” and he produced a legal-looking slip of paper, “is a little bill you will have to settle first.”
“We owe you nothing that I am aware of,” said Mrs. Ismond.
“Mistake,” snapped Dorsett. “When I sued on my claim to your homestead, I entered judgment against you for the costs of court. There’s the amount—fifty-seven dollars.”
“And not satisfied with robbing me of my home and my income, in fact everything I had in the world, you have the heartlessness to press such a claim as this at such a time?” asked Mrs. Ismond bitterly.