"Will you sign a note for the money at three months or six months, John Richmond?"
"No, I won't. You'll have to wait, Uncle Job, till I get ready to pay you; that's all about it. I may be ready next week, or it may not be till next month. A business-man can't always foresee how he'll be situated at any definite time."
With this poor consolation Job Stanton had to rest content. He looked around him and saw every evidence of prosperity. Several customers were in the store, and the two clerks seemed to have as much as they could do. He saw money paid over for purchases in considerable amounts, and he felt that a part of it might be spared as a partial payment to him; but it was of no avail, and he turned sadly away.
The next week passed, and the next month passed, and Job Stanton waited vainly for a payment on account from John Richmond. He didn't like to judge the trader harshly, but it did seem as if he was quite indifferent in the matter. Another month passed, and Job made another visit to the store of his prosperous debtor. Richmond wasted few words on him.
"Uncle Job," he said, "it's no use your coming over here. I'll send you the money when I can spare it."
Finally, six months passed, the mortgage became due, and Job received a notice from Major Sturgis that he wanted his money.
"If you can't raise it," said the major, "I am willing to cancel the note, give you two hundred and fifty dollars, and take a deed of the place."
"That is only allowing seven hundred and fifty dollars for it," said poor Job.
"It's all it is worth," said the rich man, coldly. "If you prefer to put it up at auction, I am willing, but you may in that case get less. I'll give you three days to decide."
There was great sorrow in Job Stanton's house that evening. Six months before he had considered himself well-to-do. Now, at the age of sixty, poverty and destitution stared him in the face.