Again Thankful did not answer. She had not said the mortgage was for a term of three years; Emily had presumed that it was and she had not undeceived her. She hesitated, and Emily noticed her hesitation.
“It is for three years, isn't it, Auntie?” she repeated.
Mrs. Barnes tried to evade the question.
“Why, not exactly, Emily,” she replied. “It ain't. You see, he thought three years was a little mite too long, and so—and so we fixed up for a shorter time. It's all right, though.”
“Is it? You are sure? Aunt Thankful, tell me truly: how long a term is that mortgage?”
“Well, it's—it's only for a year, but—”
“A year? Why, then it will fall due next spring. You can't pay that mortgage next spring, can you?”
“I don't know's I can, but—but it'll be all right, anyhow. He'll renew it, if I ask him to, I presume likely.”
“Of course he will. He will have to. Auntie, you must go and see him at once. If you don't I shall.”
If there was one point on which Thankful was determined, it was that Emily should not meet Solomon Cobb. The money-lender had visited the High Cliff premises but once during the summer and then Miss Howes was providentially absent.