“Mr. Jones,” she said, “I have come to foreclose the mortgage on your place.”
“You can’t do it, Mrs. Bartlett,” replied the farmer.
Mrs. Bartlett closed her thin lips firmly, and her cold gray eyes rested on the farmer’s face.
“Why can’t I do it, Mr. Jones?” she asked, in an acid tone.
“Because I am going to pay it.”
“But you can’t do it!” she exclaimed, in dismay.
“Here is the money, ma’am. You’ll find it correct. Now, I’ll thank you to cancel the mortgage, Mr. Lawyer.”
“Have I got to take the money?” asked Sophia Bartlett.
“Certainly,” said the lawyer.
“Where did you get it? I didn’t know you had any,” she asked sharply.