Osborn had seldom thought much about the happiness of his family, but he felt a dull satisfaction because things were going well with the others.  It was a set-off against his troubles, which were getting worse.  The improvements his tenants and Hayes had forced him to make cost more than he calculated and he met stubborn resistance when he talked about putting up the rents.  The money he had got by the last mortgage had gone; he could not borrow more, and his creditors demanded payment of his debts.  He put off the reckoning, however, until, one day when he drove to the market town to consult his agent, he got a rude jar.

In the first place, Hayes kept him waiting in a cold room, and he stood for a time by the window, looking out drearily at the old-fashioned square.  The day was bleak and wet, and the high moors that shut in the little town loomed, blurred and forbidding, through drifting mist.  The square was empty, the fronts of the tall old houses were dark with rain, and the drops from a clump of bare trees fell in a steady shower on the grass behind the iron rails.  The gloom reacted upon Osborn’s disturbed mood, and he frowned when Hayes came in.

“I sent you word that I would call,” he said.

“You did,” Hayes agreed.  “I was occupied when my clerk told me you were here.”

Osborn looked at him with some surprise.  Hayes was very cool and not apologetic.  “Well,” he said, “you know what I want to talk about.  I suppose you have seen Forsyth and Langdon about the renewal of their leases?”

“Yes.  Both state they’ll go sooner than pay you extra rent.”

“Then they must go,” Osborn rejoined, trying to hide his disappointment, since he had spent some money on the steadings in the hope of raising the rent.  Now he came to think of it, Hayes had held this out as an inducement when he urged the expenditure.  “It looks as if your judgment wasn’t very good, but by comparison with other things the matter’s not important,” he resumed.  “You know the sum I’ll need between now and the end of the term?”

“I do know.  In fact, I imagine you will need more than you suspect,” Hayes rejoined.  “You’ll find it impossible to borrow the money on satisfactory terms.”

Osborn looked hard at him.  The fellow’s manner was rather abrupt than sympathetic; but Hayes went on:  “Before we advertise for new tenants, there is something I want to suggest.  Although the farms are mortgaged, I might be able to find a buyer—­at a price.”

“No,” said Osborn firmly.  “The buyer would have to undertake the debt and the sum he would be willing to pay would not last me long.  When it was spent I’d have practically nothing left.”

“The situation’s awkward; but there it is!  Of course, if you were able to carry on until your rents come in—­”

“You know I can’t carry on.  I came to you, hoping you might suggest a workable plan.  Who is the buyer?”

“I am,” said Hayes.