“Mr. Raymond considered it worth, with the land, twelve hundred dollars.”
“Ahem!” said the squire, who had his reasons for underrating the property; “it was probably worth that to him, but I don’t think it would fetch much over a thousand, if it were brought to a sale. However, that is not to the purpose. I only mentioned it to suggest that the property might serve as ample security for any sum you might wish to borrow, so that you need not feel delicate about any loans you might be forced to ask.”
“That is true,” said Mrs. Raymond. “I did not think of that.”
“Have you a supply of money on hand at present?” asked the squire.
Mrs. Raymond was forced to acknowledge that she had less than a dollar in the house.
“I thought it might be so,” he said, “and therefore I came provided. You had better let me lend you fifty dollars.”
After some hesitation Mrs. Raymond consented to take the money.
“If you will let me have a sheet of paper I will draw up a note, which you can sign,” said the squire, smoothly. “I know that it will be more agreeable to your feelings to regard the loan as a business transaction rather than as a favor.”
How could Mrs. Raymond feel otherwise than grateful to the man who entered so delicately into her feelings? She unhesitatingly acquiesced in what he proposed, and brought forward writing materials, with which Squire Turner drew up a note of hand, which Mrs. Raymond signed. He then drew from his pocket-book ten five-dollar bills, which he handed to the widow, depositing the note in his wallet.
“There,” said he, pleasantly, “our business is at an end, and now we can talk as friends. I believe James is wanting some shirts. Shall you have leisure to make them?”