"I know it, Mr. Wolverton!" answered the widow, gravely.
"I'll give you three thousand dollars over and above, and then you will be rid of all care."
"Will you explain to me how Robert and I are going to live on the interest of three thousand dollars, Mr. Wolverton?"
"You'll get something, and if the boy runs the ranch you'll get nothing. He can earn his living, and I don't think you will suffer, even if you have only three thousand dollars."
"It is quite out of the question. Mr. Burton considered the ranch worth ten thousand dollars."
"A very ridiculous over-valuation—pardon me for saying so."
"At any rate, I don't propose to sell."
"There's another little circumstance I ought to mention," added Wolverton, nervously. "There is half a year's interest due on the mortgage. It was due on the very day of your husband's death."
Mrs. Burton looked up in amazement.
"What do you mean, Mr. Wolverton?" she said. "My husband started for your office on the fatal morning of his death, carrying the money—one hundred and fifty dollars—to meet the interest. Do you mean to tell me that he did not pay it?"