“But suppose the present owner meets the mortgage?”
“He can’t. He is a poor man, and he has no moneyed friends. I confess I was a little afraid that a nephew of his just returned from Montana might be able to help him, but I learn that he has only brought home five hundred dollars while the mortgage, including interest, calls for thirteen hundred.”
“Then you appear to be safe. When did you say the matter would be settled?”
“This afternoon at two o’clock. You had better stay over and take supper with me. I shall be prepared to talk with you at that time.”
“Very well.”
From a window of the farmhouse Cyrus Hooper saw Squire Sheldon and his guest walking by the farm, and noticed the interest which they seemed to feel in it. But for the assurance which he had received of help to pay the mortgage he would have felt despondent, for he guessed the subject of their conversation. As it was, he felt an excusable satisfaction in the certain defeat of the squire’s hopes of gain.
“It seems that the more a man has the more he wants, Jefferson,” he said to his nephew. “The squire is a rich man—the richest man in Burton—but he wants to take from me the little property that I have.”
“It’s the way of the world, Uncle Cyrus. In this case the squire is safe to be disappointed, thanks to my young friend, Rodney.”
“Its lucky for me, Jefferson, that you came home just the time you did. If you had come a week later it would have been too late.”
“Then you don’t think the squire would have relented?”