CHAPTER X. THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS
On Monday morning Mrs. Atterson put her house in the agent's hands. On Wednesday a pair of spinster ladies came to look at it. They came again on Thursday and again on Friday.
Friday being considered an “unlucky” day they did not bind the bargain; but on Saturday money was passed, and the new keepers of the house were to take possession in a week. Not until then were the boarders informed of Mother Atterson's change of circumstances, and the fact that she was going to graduate from the boarding house kitchen to the farm.
After all, they were sorry—those light-headed, irresponsible young men. There wasn't one of them, from Crackit down the line, who could not easily remember some special kindness that marked the old lady's intercourse with him.
As soon as the fact was announced that the boarding house had changed hands, the boarders were up in arms. There was a wild gabble of voices, over the supper table that night. Crackit led the chorus.
“It's a mean trick. Mother Atterson has sold us like so many cattle to the highest bidder. Ungrateful—right down ungrateful, I call it,” he declared. “What do you say, Feeble?”
“It is particularly distasteful to me just now,” complained the invalid. “When Sister has learned to give me my hot water at just the right temperature,” and he took a sip of that innocent beverage. “Don't you suppose we could prevail upon the old lady to renig?”
“She's bound to put us off with half rations for the rest of the time she stays,” declared Crackit, shaking his head wisely. “She's got nothing to lose now. She don't care if we all up and leave—after she gets hers.”
“That's always the way,” feebly remarked Mr. Peebles. “Just as soon as I really get settled down into a half-decent lodging, something happens.”
Mr. Peebles had been a fixture at Mother Atterson's for nearly ten years. Only Old Lem Camp had been longer at the place.