A slow grin overspread the face of Martin Moreland.
“Three times?” he said. “Well, maybe. But in interest I usually aim to get about ten per cent. I don’t know why you’d think in a deal like this that I’d be satisfied merely to triple things.”
Mrs. Moreland stood very still. Then she looked at her husband reflectively.
“Would it be any use for me to ask you,” she said quietly, “to go as light as you can? I don’t often interfere in business. I don’t recall that I ever have before, but I like Mrs. Spellman. I liked Mr. Spellman. I liked all of them. I thought they were fine people, and so did every one else. I can see from the aggregate that you’ve been piling—I mean, Mahlon Spellman’s been piling—up heaps of indebtedness all these years. You shouldn’t have let him do it. His affairs could have been managed——”
“Now right here is where you stop,” said Martin Moreland tersely. “You don’t know a damned thing that you’re talking about. You’re only indulging in guess work. If you feel that you have a conscience that must be satisfied in this matter, you come down to the bank and take a look at the notes, the mortgages, and the loans that I’ve made that poor fool, carrying him along, trying in every way to save his property and to help him out, till it got to the place where I just good naturedly had to get the money out of it or run the risk of smashing myself.”
Mrs. Moreland closed her lips and stood in meditation.
At last she remarked: “They tell me that, stuck up big and white and all painted up fancy as if it were a thing to be proud of, Mahala has got a sign in the front dooryard asking to make over hats and remodel dresses.”
“She has,” said Martin Moreland. “I took the pains to see it myself. It’s very big and the letters are most artistic; there’s a glitter about it and it reads: ‘Miss Mahala Spellman will remodel your last year’s gown and hat in the latest Parisian mode. Let her show you how fashionable an expert needle can make you appear.’”
“For mercy sake!” said Mrs. Moreland, and then a glint came into her eyes and a look of determination to her face. “Well, I call that pretty nervy,” she said, “for a girl that’s been raised as she has, and has been expecting all her life to go to one of the best colleges in the land this fall, for four years more of pampering, I must say I like her pluck!”
Martin Moreland grinned.