as agreed? the old man asked—­three hundred dollars down, and the balance at twelve dollars a month, till the total of fifteen hundred dollars had been paid?  Yes, that was correct.  And it was for the sale of such and such a house—­the house and lot and everything?  Yes,—­and the lawyer showed him where that was all written.  And it was all perfectly regular—­there were no tricks about it of any sort?  They were poor people, and this was all they had in the world, and if there was anything wrong they would be ruined.  And so Szedvilas went on, asking one trembling question after another, while the eyes of the women folks were fixed upon him in mute agony.  They could not understand what he was saying, but they knew that upon it their fate depended.  And when at last he had questioned until there was no more questioning to be done, and the time came for them to make up their minds, and either close the bargain or reject it, it was all that poor Teta Elzbieta could do to keep from bursting into tears.  Jokubas had asked her if she wished to sign; he had asked her twice—­and what could she say?  How did she know if this lawyer were telling the truth—­that he was not in the conspiracy?  And yet, how could she say so—­what excuse could she give?  The eyes of every one in the room were upon her, awaiting her decision; and at last, half blind with her tears, she began fumbling in her jacket, where she had pinned the precious money.  And she brought it out and unwrapped it before the men.  All of this Ona sat watching, from a corner of the room, twisting her hands together, meantime, in a fever of fright.  Ona longed to cry out and tell her stepmother to stop, that it was all a trap; but there seemed to be something clutching her by the throat, and she could not make a sound.  And so Teta Elzbieta laid the money on the table, and the agent picked it up and counted it, and then wrote them a receipt for it and passed them the deed.  Then he gave a sigh of satisfaction, and rose and shook hands with them all, still as smooth and polite as at the beginning.  Ona had a dim recollection of the lawyer telling Szedvilas that his charge was a dollar, which occasioned some debate, and more agony; and then, after they had paid that, too, they went out into the street, her stepmother clutching the deed in her hand.  They were so weak from fright that they could not walk, but had to sit down on the way.

So they went home, with a deadly terror gnawing at their souls; and that evening Jurgis came home and heard their story, and that was the end.  Jurgis was sure that they had been swindled, and were ruined; and he tore his hair and cursed like a madman, swearing that he would kill the agent that very night.  In the end he seized the paper and rushed out of the house, and all the way across the yards to Halsted Street.  He dragged Szedvilas out from his supper, and together they rushed to consult another lawyer.  When they entered his office the lawyer sprang up, for Jurgis looked like a crazy person, with flying hair and bloodshot eyes.  His companion explained the situation, and the lawyer took the paper and began to read it, while Jurgis stood clutching the desk with knotted hands, trembling in every nerve.