“I very much doubt it,” said the squire. “I don't believe it cost a cent over twelve hundred dollars.”
“I have my husband's papers to show that it cost fifteen hundred,” said the widow.
“Then all I have to say is, he was outrageously cheated,” said the squire. “I believe I know as much about real estate as any man in town,” he proceeded, pompously. “Indeed, I own more than any other man. I assure you, on my word, I have offered you a very good price.”
“I would rather not sell,” said the widow, gently, but decidedly.
“I will increase my offer to eleven hundred, including the mortgage,” said the squire, who saw the prize slipping through his fingers, and felt it necessary to bid higher. “Eleven hundred dollars. That's three hundred and fifty dollars cash!”
“Mother, I am sure you won't think of selling for any such sum,” expostulated Herbert.
“No,” said his mother, “I don't want to sell.”
“You stand very much in your own light, ma'am,” said the squire, impatiently; “and you, Herbert, are too young to offer any advice on such a subject.”
“I don't see why,” said Herbert, independently. “I ought to feel interested in such a matter.
“You are a boy, and have no judgment. Boys of your age should be seen and not heard,” said the squire, sternly.