Violet and David laughed; even Mrs Inglis smiled. That was so exactly what was generally asserted with regard to Miss Bethia. She must have things in just the way she wanted them, or she would not have them at all.
“We could fix it as easy as not, all round, if you would only take my way,” said she, with a little vexation.
They all sat thinking in silence for a little.
“See here! I’ve just thought of a plan,” said she, suddenly. “Let me take the books to take care of, and you needn’t take the five hundred dollars unless you want to. Let it be in Mr Slight’s hands, and while I have the books you will have the interest. I don’t suppose you know it, but he had that much of me when he built his new tannery, eight years ago, and he has paid me regular ten per cent, ever since. It looks like usury, don’t it? But he says it’s worth that to him; and I’m sure, if it is, he’s welcome to it. Now, if you’ll take that while I have the books, I’ll call it even—risk or no risk; and you can give it up and have the books when you want them. I call that fair. Don’t you?”
Did ever so extraordinary a proposal come from so unexpected a quarter? The mother and children looked at one another in astonishment.
“Miss Bethia,” said Mrs Inglis, gravely, “that is a large sum of money.”
“Well—that’s according as folks look at it. But don’t let us worry any more about it. There is no better way to fix it that I know of than that.”
Mrs Inglis did not know how to answer her.
“Mrs Inglis,” said Miss Bethia, solemnly, “I never thought you was a difficult woman to get along with before.”
“But, Miss Bethia,” said Violet, “mamma knows that you wish to do this for our sakes and not at all for your own.”