"Don't ye? Ye wrote 'bout mortgagin'. I didn't want to do it, 'count o' Ma, partly; but we kep' worryin' an' worryin' 'bout ye. Ma couldn't sleep o' nights or eat her victuals; an fin'lly—'Ezry,' she says, 'we was possessed to let Helen 'Lizy, at her age, an' all the chick or child we got, go off alone to the city. Ezry,' she says, 'you go fetch her home. Like's not Tim can let ye have the money,' she says; 'his wife bein' an own cousin, right in the family, y'know.' So I've brought the deeds, Sis, an'—"
"What!" cried Helen, starting up. "The deeds of the farm? Let me see!"
She reached out a shaking hand for the papers.
"I'll pay you back!" she cried. "Why didn't you come sooner? How much can you get? How much money?"
"Not much more'n three thousan', I'm afeared, on a mortgage; cap'tal's kind o' skeery—but Tim—"
"Three thousand dollars!"
Laughing hysterically, she fell back in her chair.
"I had ought 'a come sooner; an' three thousan' ain't a gre't deal, I don't suppose, here in the city; but it's been spend, spend—not that I grutch it—an' things ain't so flourishin' as they was. I'm gittin' too old to manage, mebbe—"
"Mr. Winship," I said, "Nelly has told you the truth; she doesn't need money; she—"
"Three thousand will save me!" Helen cried. "I can pay a little to everybody. I can hold out, I can—"