The owner of the “hen-house” looked as if he wished very much to retort in kind.  The glare he gave his visitor prophesied direful things.  But he did not retort; nor, to her surprise, did he raise his voice or order her off the premises.  Instead his tone, when he spoke again, was quiet, even conciliatory.

“I—­I’m sorry if I’ve said anything I shouldn’t,” he stammered.  “I’m gettin’ old and—­and sort of short in my talk, maybe.  I—­I—­there’s a good many folks round here that don’t like me, ‘count of my doin’ business in a business way, ‘stead of doin’ it like the average poor fool.  I suppose they’ve been talkin’ to you and you’ve got sort of prejudiced.  Well, I don’t know’s I blame you for that.  I shan’t hold no grudge.  How much of a mortgage do you cal’late to want on Abner’s place?”

“Two thousand dollars.”

“Two thousand! . . .  There, there!  Hold on, hold on!  Two thousand dollars is a whole lot of money.  It don’t grow on every bush.”

“I know that as well as you do.  If I did I’d have picked it afore this.”

“Um—­hm.  How long a time do you want?”

“I don’t know.  Three years, perhaps.”

Solomon shook his head.

“Too long,” he said.  “I couldn’t give as long a mortgage as that to anybody.  No, I couldn’t do it. . . .  Tell you what I will do,” he added.  “I—­I don’t want to act mean to a relation.  I think as much of relations as anybody does.  I’d like to favor you and I will if I can.  You give me a week to think this over in and then I’ll let you know what I’ll do.  That’s fair, ain’t it?”

Mrs. Barnes declined the offer.

“It may be fair to you,” she said, “but I can’t wait so long.  I want to settle this afore I go back to South Middleboro.  And I shall go back tomorrow, or the day after at the latest.”

Another session of “weeding.”  Then said Mr. Cobb:  “Well, all right, all right.  I’ll think it over and then I’ll drive across to East Wellmouth, have another look at the property, and let you know.  I’ll see you day after tomorrow forenoon.  Where you stoppin’ over there?”

Thankful told him.  He walked as far as the door with her.

“Hope you ain’t put out with me, ma’am,” he said.  “I have to be kind of sharp and straight up and down in my dealin’s; they’d get the weather gauge on me a dozen times a day if I wa’n’t.  But I’m real kind inside—­to them I take a notion to.  I’ll—­I’ll treat you right—­er—­er—­Cousin Thankful; you see if I don’t.  I’m real glad you come to me.  Good day.”

Thankful went down the path.  As she reached the sidewalk she turned and looked back.  The gentleman with the kind interior was standing peering at her through the cracked glass of the door.  He was still tugging at his whiskers and if, as he had intimated, he had “taken a notion” to her, his expression concealed the fact wonderfully.