CHAPTER IV UNPLEASANT BUSINESS

It was now nine o’clock, rather a late hour for callers in the country, and Mrs. Barclay waited not without curiosity to hear the nature of the business which had brought her two visitors at that time.

“Take seats, gentlemen,” she said, with the courtesy habitual to her.

Squire Davenport, who was disposed to consider that he had a right to the best of everything, seated himself in the rocking-chair, and signed his companion to a cane chair beside him.

“Mr. Kirk,” he commenced, “is thinking of coming to Pentonville to live.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Barclay politely.  Perhaps she would not have said this if she had known what was coming next.

“He is a carpenter,” continued the squire, “and, as we have none in the village except old Mr. Wade, who is superannuated, I think he will find enough to do to keep him busy.”

“I should think so,” assented the widow.

“If he does not, I can employ him a part of the time on my land.”

“What has all this to do with me?” thought Mrs. Barclay.

She soon learned.

“Of course he will need a house,” pursued the squire, “and as his family is small, he thinks this house will just suit him.”

“But I don’t wish to sell,” said the widow hurriedly.  “I need this house for Ben and myself.”

“You could doubtless find other accommodations.  I dare say you could hire a couple of rooms from Elnathan Perkins.”

“I wouldn’t live in that old shell,” said Mrs. Barclay rather indignantly, “and I am sure Ben wouldn’t.”

“I apprehend Benjamin will have no voice in the matter,” said Squire Davenport stiffly.  “He is only a boy.”

“He is my main support, and my main adviser,” said Mrs. Barclay, with spirit, “and I shall not take any step which is disagreeable to him.”

Mr. Kirk looked disappointed, but the squire gave him an assuring look, as the widow could see.

“Perhaps you may change your mind,” said the squire significantly.  “I am under the impression that I hold a mortgage on this property.”

“Yes, sir,” assented Mrs. Barclay apprehensively.

“For the sum of seven hundred dollars, if I am not mistaken.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I shall have need of this money for other purposes, and will trouble you to take it up.”

“I was to have three months’ notice,” said the widow, with a troubled look.

“I will give you three months’ notice to-night,” said the squire.

“I don’t know where to raise the money,” faltered Mrs. Barclay.

“Then you had better sell to my friend here.  He will assume the mortgage and pay you three hundred dollars.”

“But that will be only a thousand dollars for the place.”

“A very fair price, in my opinion, Mrs. Barclay.”