“You've got a temper, ain't you,” he declared. “Temper's a good thing to play with, maybe, if you can afford it. I ain't rich enough, myself. I've saved a good many dollars by keepin' mine. If you don't want me to give you nor lend you money, what do you want?”
“I want you to take a mortgage on some property I own. You do take mortgages, don't you?”
More whisker pulling. Solomon nodded.
“I do sometimes,” he admitted; “when I cal'late they're safe to take. Where is this property of yours?”
“Over in East Wellmouth. It's the old Abner Barnes place. Cap'n Abner willed it to me. He was my uncle.”
And at last Mr. Cobb showed marked interest. Slowly he leaned back in his chair. His spectacles fell from his nose into his lap and lay there unheeded.
“What? What's that you say?” he asked, sharply. “Abner Barnes was your uncle? I—I thought you said your name was Cahoon.”
“I said it used to be afore I was married, when I knew you. Afterwards I married Eben Barnes, Cap'n Abner's nephew. That made the captain my uncle by marriage.”
Solomon's fingers groped for his spectacles. He picked them up and took his handkerchief from his pocket. But it was his forehead he rubbed with his handkerchief, not the glasses.
“You're—you're Abner Barnes' niece!” he said slowly.