The money received from the barley crop, together with some from the sale of other farm products, was, after part had been taken out for the boys' outfits, placed in the bank at Rossmore, which was the nearest large town to Lockport. Mr. Crosby wanted to keep the cash there until he had enough to meet the payment of interest on the mortgage, which would be due in a few weeks.
He had not quite enough, and he did not see how he was going to complete the sum in time, but he trusted the man who held the mortgage would wait for the balance. He determined, however, to make it up if he could, and, for that reason, he was busier than usual, gathering in all the products he could afford to sell off.
"You look worried, Enos," remarked Mrs. Crosby one evening, when her husband came in from the village. "Has anything happened?"
"Nothing special. I saw Jimson this afternoon."
"The man who holds the mortgage on this place?"
"Yes. I told him I was afraid I'd be a few dollars short in the interest, and I asked him if he'd wait a few weeks."
"What did he say?"
"He said he wouldn't. Told me I had to have it all or he'd foreclose."
"And take the farm away from us?"
"That's what it would mean. He's been wanting it ever since he heard what a fine barley crop I raised."