“Then she won’t do it! I’ll advance the money and assume the mortgage myself.”
“Bully for you, Grant! Here’s Mr. Jones himself coming. Tell him, and put him out of his anxiety.”
Abner Jones approached with downcast eyes and sad face. He saw no way of saving the farm, and it would doubtless be sold far below its value. When he saw Grant his face brightened, for he had always liked the boy.
“Welcome home, Grant!” he said heartily. “When did you come?”
“I have just arrived.”
“Did you do well?”
“Finely. How is it with you?”
“I am about to lose my home, Grant,” he said sadly. “There’s a mortgage on it, held by Mrs. Bartlett, that I can’t pay.”
“And won’t she extend it?”
“No; she wants to get possession of it.”