About fifteen minutes after nine a shuffling was heard at the door, there was a knock, and a minute later Chester admitted the thin and shriveled figure of Silas Tripp.
“Good-evening, Mr. Tripp,” said Mrs. Rand, politely.
“Good-evenin’, ma’am, I thought I’d call in and inquire how you were gettin’ along.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tripp, for the interest you show in our affairs. We are not doing very well, as you may imagine.”
“So I surmised, ma’am. So I surmised.”
“It can’t be possible he is going to offer us a loan,” thought Chester.
“You’ve got a tidy little place here, ma’am. It isn’t mortgaged, I rec’on.”
“No, Sir.”
“Why don’t you sell it? You need the money, and you might hire another house, or pay rent for this.”
“Do you know of anyone that wants to buy it, Mr. Tripp?”