"If you want me away too, Faith," Mrs. Stoutenburgh said as she arranged the lamp and the curtains, "I'll go."
"I don't want you to go, ma'am."—And then covering her trepidation under the simplest of grave exteriors, Faith spoke to the point. "It is mother's business. Squire Deacon has come home, Mr. Stoutenburgh."
"My dear," said the Squire, "I know he has. I heard it just before you came in. But he's married, Miss Faith."
"That don't content him," said Faith, "for he wants our farm."
"Rascal!" said Mr. Stoutenburgh in an emphatic under tone,—"the old claim, I suppose. What's the state of it now, my dear?"
"Nothing new, sir; he has a right to it, I suppose. The mortgage is owing, and we haven't been able to pay anything but the interest, and that must be a small rent for the farm." Faith paused. Mrs. Stoutenburgh was silent; looking from one to the other anxiously,—the Squire himself was not very intelligible.
"Yes"—he said,—"of course. Your poor father only lived to make the second payment. I don't know why I call him poor—he's rich enough now. But Sam Deacon!—a small rent? too much for him to get,—and too little.—Why my dear!" he said suddenly sitting up straight and facing round upon Faith, "I thought—What does your mother expect to do, Miss Faith?—has she seen Sam? What does he say?"
"He came to see her this afternoon, sir—he is bent upon having the place, mother says. And she don't like to leave the old house," Faith said slowly. "He will take the farm, I suppose,—but mother thought, perhaps, sir—if you would speak to Mr. Deacon, he would let us stay in the house—only the house without anything else—for another year. Mother wished it—I don't know that your speaking to him could do any good." Faith went straight through, but the rosy colour sprung and grew till its crimson reached her forehead. Not the less she went clearly through with what she had to say, her eyes only at the last words drooping. Mr. Stoutenburgh rose up with great energy and stood before her.
"My dear," he said, "he shall do it! If it was any other man I'd promise to make him do more, but Sam always must have some way of amusing himself, and I'm afraid I can't make this as expensive as the last one he tried. You tell your mother, Miss Faith, that she shall stay in her house till she'd rather go to yours. I hope that won't be more than a year, but if it is she shall stay."
"That's good, Mr. Stoutenburgh!" said his wife with a little clap of her hands.