“I can see what is best for my mother's interest,” said Herbert.
“I decline to discuss the matter with you. I consider your interference impertinent,” said the squire, becoming angry.
“Oh, Herbert!” said his mother, who was a little in awe of the great man of the village, “be respectful to Squire Leech.”
“I mean to be,” said Herbert, “but I'm sure he's wrong in thinking I have nothing to do with this matter.”
“Reflect again, Mrs. Carter,” persisted the squire, “of the advantages of my proposal. Think how comfortable you would feel in knowing that you had three hundred and fifty dollars on interest in the savings bank. I admit that I may not offer you quite as much as the place cost, but houses never fetch their first cost. I've made you a very fair offer, ma'am, very fair.”
“I won't say anything as to that, Squire Leech, but this house my poor husband built—in this house I have passed many happy years—and while we can keep it, Herbert and I, we will. There is no other place in town that would seem so much like home.”
“This is all very sentimental, ma'am; but, permit me to say, very ridiculous,” said the impatient squire, rising to go. “I'll give you time to think over what I have said, and I'll call again.”
“I'll have that place yet,” he muttered to himself, as he left the cottage. “I won't be balked by an obstinate woman and an impertinent boy.”