“Yes, yes,” her father’s old clerk replied, delighted at being consulted confidentially in matters of finance.
“And could you get one for me, if I gave you the money, and told you the one?”
He smiled, as he had seen his superiors smile. It would be a treat for him to buy someone’s mortgage. She told him, and he scratched his head a moment. “I think,” he said, “that’s over’t the Polk National; I ain’t sure now, but it seems to me—”
“Well, find out,” said Emily, and the old man started.
“You spoke just like your father then,” he said, in a mild, reminiscent way that touched her.
He managed the matter for her in the end, and she bought the mortgage by borrowing the money of one of her trustees, who said he was glad to advance it to her, though he was careful to take out the interest for himself in advance.
Emily had the mortgage canceled, and took it herself to her mother-in-law that night.
“Here it is, mother,” she said, “Jerome had forgotten it. You know how neglectful he is!” And she smiled, as if she had named a virtue in the man.
“Law, yes!” said Mrs. Garwood, folding the mortgage in her trembling fingers. “Bless the boy! He always puts things off, but he never forgets his poor old mother in the end!”