“Yes, if I can carry out the plan I’ve got in my head.  I’m thinkin’ of fixin’ up that old place and livin’ in it.  I’m figgerin’ to run it as a boardin’-house.  It’ll cost money to put it in shape and a mortgage is the simplest way of raisin’ that money, I suppose.  That’s the long and short of it.”

The dealer in mortgages appeared to hear and there was no reason why he should not have understood.  But he seemed still unsatisfied, even suspicious.  The whiskers received another series of pulls and he regarded Thankful with the same questioning stare.

“And you say,” he drawled, “that you come to me just because—­”

“Mercy on us!  If you don’t know why I come by this time, then—­”

“All right, all right.  I—­I’m talkin’ to myself, I guess.  Course you told me why you come.  So you’re cal’latin’ to start a boardin’-house, eh?  Risky things, boardin’-houses are.  There’s a couple of hundred launched every year and not more’n ten ever make a payin’ v’yage.  Let’s hear what your plan is, the whole of it.”

Fighting down her impatience Thankful went into details concerning her plan.  She explained why she had thought of it and her growing belief that it might be successful.  Mr. Cobb listened.

“Humph!” he grunted, when she had finished.  “So Obed Bangs advised you to try it, hey?  That don’t make me think no better of it, as I know of.  I know Bangs pretty well.”

“Yes,” dryly; “I supposed likely you did.  Anyhow, he said he knew you.”

“He did, hey?  Told you some things about me, hey?”

“No, he didn’t tell me anything except that you and he had had some dealin’s.  Now, Mr. Cobb, we’ve talked a whole lot and it don’t seem to me we got anywheres.  If you don’t want to take a mortgage on that place—­”

“Sshh!  Who said I didn’t want to take it?  How do I know what I want to do yet?  Lord!  How you women do go on!  Suppose I should take a mortgage on that place—­mind, I don’t say I will, but suppose I should—­how would I know that the mortgage would be paid, or the interest, or anything?”

“If it ain’t paid you can foreclose when the time comes, I presume likely.  As for the interest—­well, I’m fairly honest, or I try to be, and that’ll be paid reg’lar if I live.”

“Ya’as.  Well, fur’s honesty goes, I could run a seine through Ostable County any day in the week and load a schooner with honest folks; and there wouldn’t nary one of ’em have cash enough to pay for the wear and tear on the net.  Honesty’s good policy, maybe, but it takes hard money to pay bills.”

Thankful stood up.

“All right,” she said, decidedly, “then I’ll go where they play the honest game.  And you needn’t set there and weed your face any more on my account.”

Mr. Cobb rose also.  “There! there!” he protested.  “Don’t get het up.  I don’t say I won’t take your mortgage, do I?”

“You’ve said a good deal.  If you say any more of the same kind you can say it to yourself.  I tell you, honest, I don’t like the way you say it.”