They parted at the cottage, and Bobtail went in to see his mother and take his supper with her. For some reason which the son could not understand, Mrs. Taylor was unusually sad and moody. Ezekiel was sober, for a wonder, and did not appear to be so cross and ugly as he generally was when recovering from his debauches. Neither of them said much, and Bobtail wondered what had happened. After supper he went out and split up the wood for the fire, and did other chores.
"What can be done about it?" he heard Ezekiel say, as he paused at the door, after he had done his work.
"I don't know's anything can be done," replied Mrs. Taylor, gloomily.
Then there was a silence, and Bobtail went in.
"What's the matter, mother?" asked he, now satisfied that some calamity impended.
"I'm afraid we shall lose the house, Robert," replied Mrs. Taylor.
"Lose the house? How can you lose it?"
"You know there's a mortgage upon it for five hundred dollars. Squire Gilfilian wants the money, and says he must sell the place if it isn't paid. He has been threatening to do it for a good while, and to-day he has foreclosed the mortgage."
"I've been all over town to get somebody else to take the mortgage," added Ezekiel, "but I can't find nobody. The place is wuth a thousand dollars of any man's money; but business is dull, and money's hard, and I don't believe 'twill bring more'n the mortgage under the hammer. I don't know what I'm goin' to do about it. I don't see's I can help myself."
Probably just then Ezekiel Taylor reproached himself for his idle and dissolute life, and realized that, if he had been industrious, and had saved his money, he might have owned the place with no encumbrance at the present time. It was about sunset, and Mrs. Taylor and her son seated themselves on the front doorstep to talk over the impending calamity.