CHAPTER XLVII.
A DOUBLE SURPRISE.
IT WAS TEN o’clock in the evening. Tillie was fast asleep, but her mother, by the light of a small lamp, was engaged in sewing in her little sitting-room.
Her face was grave and sad. Her hope of seeing Tom again in life was fast growing fainter and fainter. He was her only boy, and she had lost him. She would never again see his bright face, or hear his cheerful voice through the long and weary years that probably awaited her.
Beside this loss pecuniary cares were of secondary importance, but they troubled her at this hour. If, as John Simpson said, the house and lot, her only property, would scarcely bring six hundred dollars, that would not last long, and how was she to get along? If only she had Tom’s strong arm to rest upon, he would find something to do, and would not let his mother want.
The five dollars had now dwindled away. But fifty cents were left, and she could not get sewing enough to do to defray even their small expenses.
That very afternoon she had sent Tillie to the house of John Simpson, asking him to call the coming day. She had made up her mind to accept his offer, and either mortgage the place for four hundred dollars or sell it outright for six hundred, if he would give it.
She reckoned that two hundred dollars a year, in addition to what she could earn, would support them; and thus three years would be provided for. During that time Tom might come back. She would not give him up yet.
The outlook was sad enough, and it was no wonder that Mrs. Thatcher looked pale and sad, yet she was on the threshold of a great joy, though she knew it not.