"You're right there, squire. It costs a sight to live. How much do you think my grocery bill came to last month?"
"I don't know," answered the squire, with a curious smile. The deacon had the reputation of being very close-fisted, and it was rather amusing to hear him speak of the cost of living.
"Fifteen dollars and sixty-seven cents," said the deacon, with the air of one who hardly expected to be believed.
"I believe you have six in family," said Squire Collins, with a smile.
"Yes, six, including the hired man."
"I pity your family," thought the squire, who, at all events, kept a liberal table.
"Yes, it costs a great deal to live," he added, "and, of course, the Widow Manning, though her family is small, can't live on nothing. When she finds she can't pay all her bills, she will probably begin by being remiss in her rent."
"That's so, squire! She's allus paid so far right up to the handle, though."
"When she had Mark's help; but as I told you he is not now in a condition to help his mother. Well, what do you say? Shall I have the house?"
Then commenced the bargaining. Both parties were sharp, but at length a conclusion was reached. Squire Collins agreed to pay eight hundred and fifty dollars for the cottage, five hundred to remain on bond and mortgage, at six per cent. In a day or two the necessary papers were made out, and then Squire Collins took a walk over to the cottage, to inform Mrs. Manning that the house had passed into his possession, and it would be necessary for her to find another home.