The old man, among other things, was President of the Sandy Bay Bank. This bank, although the children did not know it, had long held a mortgage on Miss Prescott’s property. The kindly, sweet-souled lady had incurred the debt to forward her brother’s dreams. For poor Mr. Prescott had always been “just on the verge of making a fortune.” Mr. Harding’s errand was to state that the interest being long overdue and there being no immediate prospect of settlement the bank would have to foreclose. The real reason for this anxiety, which of course Miss Prescott, simple-minded lady, could not know, was, that a real estate concern wanted to purchase the property to erect a summer colony.
“But what of my securities in––and––and––?” inquired poor Miss Prescott, who really knew no more of business than Peggy’s French bull-dog.
“In the depressed state of the market that class of securities are worth nothing, madam,” was the response, “in addition, though I have refrained from telling you so till now, your account at the bank is much overdrawn. However,” he had continued, “to show you that we mean to be fair with you we will say nothing about that, but unless the bank gets its interest we must have the land.”
It was Miss Prescott’s relation of the true state of affairs to Roy and Peggy that sunny afternoon that had brought forth Roy’s exclamation recorded at the beginning of this chapter.
“But, auntie,” burst out Peggy, blankly, “does the man mean to say that there is nothing, absolutely nothing, on which we can realize anything?”
Miss Prescott shook her head slowly.
“There is nothing we can do,” she rejoined, sadly. “We shall have to leave dear old Shadyside and the land will be cut up and sold to strangers. Land which the first Prescott settled on and which has been in the family ever since. Oh, dear!” and Miss Prescott, never the most strong-minded of women, drew out her handkerchief and began to sniff ominously. Peggy, looking bewitchingly pretty in a simple muslin frock, wrinkled her forehead seriously.
“It can’t—it simply can’t be as bad as all that,” she persisted. “We can raise the money somehow.”
“Five thousand dollars!” cried Miss Prescott.
“Phew! That is a lot of money,” from Roy. But Peggy had jumped up from her chair.