“No, no!” declared Mrs. Barnes, hastily. “You shan't do any such thing. The idea! I guess I can 'tend to borrowin' money from my own relation without draggin' other folks into it. I'll drive over and see him pretty soon.”
“You must go at once. I shan't permit you to wait another week. It is almost time for me to go back to my schoolwork, and I shan't go until I am certain that mortgage is to be renewed and that your financial affairs are all right. Do go, Auntie, please. Arrange to have the mortgage renewed and try to get another loan. Promise me you will go tomorrow.”
So Thankful was obliged to promise, and the following morning she drove George Washington over the long road, now wet and soggy from the rain, to Trumet.
Mr. Solomon Cobb's “henhouse” looked quite as dingy and dirty as when she visited it before. Solomon himself was just as shabby and he pulled at his whiskers with his accustomed energy.
“Hello!” he said, peering over his spectacles. “What do you want? . . . Oh, it's you, is it? What's the matter?”
Thankful came forward. “Matter?” she repeated. “What in the world—what made you think anything was the matter?”
Solomon stared at her fixedly.
“What did you come here for?” he asked.
“To see you. That's worth comin' for, isn't it?”
The joke was wasted, as all jokes seemed to be upon Mr. Cobb. He did not smile.