“Elsie,” he said, speaking low and soothingly as he might to an excited child, “I wish you would not bother about this; you do not understand mortgages, and you do not need to think of it any more; I shall manage, somehow.”
“But the best way to manage it is to pay off the mortgage, Joseph; surely that is simple enough, a child could understand it.”
Then in desperation he proclaimed the awful fact:
“Elsie, the mortgage is for eight thousand dollars.”
“Very well, get rid of it.” Then, suddenly, her manner changed. She began to realize that he was actually frightened. Instead of the crisp business-like tone hers became gentle.
“Sit down, Joseph, and don’t get to worrying about me; I’m neither crazy nor ‘gone daft,’ as our Scotch grandmother used to say. It is all very simple. I happen to have this money lying by, waiting to be used, and here is a chance to use it. I wish I had known about the mortgage a good while ago, it might have saved you some anxious hours; and the sooner we fix it up now the better. If you will tell me just how to make out the check I’ll hobble away and give you a chance to rest a bit; I can see that you are all tuckered out.”
He was not to be disposed of so easily.
“Elsie,” he said in strong excitement, “I cannot take your money—I can’t! Why should you think for a moment that I could do such a thing? I did not dream that you had any money; but if I had, I would not have borrowed it for the world! I don’t know when I could pay you; the hope that I have for two years ahead may fail; all my hopes and plans have, for years; I cannot depend on anything financial, and to risk all that you have in that way would be folly in you, and infamous in me.”
He had walked back towards his desk as he began to speak; now he dropped into his chair and laid his head, face downward, on the desk. His sister reached for her crutch and came over and laid her hand on his head in a way his father used to have.
“Joseph,” she said gently, “you don’t understand; let me tell you. This money that I offer is really yours; I did not earn it nor save it; it is trust money, Joseph, for me to use as I think the one who made it would like to have it used; and that was our brother Derrick; you have read the letters he wrote to me about you; can you think of any one in the world he would rather give it to than you? I have some money of my own, as I said, but this I am offering has nothing to do with mine; but suppose that it had, and that it took my last penny, don’t you think I would be glad to have you take it for such a purpose? Think of the home that you have made for me! Think of what you and Louise and the children have done for me all these months. Do you remember that I have been here about nine months, cared for and watched over with thoughtful loving kindness, never for a single moment allowed to fancy myself in the way—made to feel as though I were your very own? Joseph, for the first time since father went away I have had a real home. What is money compared with that?”