“Where did you go, Abel?” asked his mother.
“To West Linfield.”
“What!” cried Jerome. “That's only twenty miles away.”
Abel Edwards laughed with child-like cunning. “I know it,” he said. “I went to work on Jabez Summers's farm there. It's way up the hill-road; nobody ever came there that knew me. I took another name, too—called myself Ephraim Green. I've saved up fifteen hundred dollars. It's there in that little tin chist. I bought that of Summers for a shillin', to keep my money in. There's five hundred in gold, an' the rest in bank-bills. You needn't worry now, mother. We'll pay that mortgage up to-morrow.”
“The mortgage is all paid. We've paid it, Abel,” cried Ann.
“Paid! The mortgage ain't paid!”
“Yes, we've paid it. We all earnt money an' paid it.”
“Then we can keep the money,” said the old man, happily. “We can keep it, mother; I thought it would go kinder hard partin' with it. I've worked so hard to save it. I 'ain't had many clothes, an' I 'ain't ever been to meetin' lately, my coat got so ragged.”
Elmira was crying.
“How did you get here to-night, father?” Jerome asked, huskily.