“Stay here till I come back, Mr. Caldwell,” he said.  “I apprehend it won’t take me long to get through my business.”

Squire Sheldon knocked at the door of the farmhouse, which was opened to him by Nancy Hooper.

“Walk in, squire,” she said.

“Is your husband at home, Mrs. Hooper?”

“Yes; he is waiting for you.”

Mrs. Hooper led the way into the sitting room, where her husband was sitting in a rocking chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hooper,” said the squire.  “I hope I see you well.”

“As well as I expect to be.  I’m gettin’ to be an old man.”

“We must all grow old,” said the squire vaguely.

“And sometimes a man’s latter years are his most sorrowful years.”

“That means that he can’t pay the mortgage,” thought Squire Sheldon.

“Well, ahem!  Yes, it does sometimes happen so,” he said aloud.

“Still if a man’s friends stand by him, that brings him some comfort.”

“I suppose you know what I’ve come about, Mr. Hooper,” said the squire, anxious to bring his business to a conclusion.

“I suppose it’s about the mortgage.”

“Yes, its about the mortgage.”

“Will you be willing to extend it another year?”

“I thought,” said the squire, frowning, “I had given you to understand that I cannot do this.  You owe me a large sum in accrued interest.”

“But if I make shift to pay this?”

“I should say the same.  It may as well come first as last.  You can’t hold the place, and there is no chance of your being better off by waiting.”

“I understand that the new railroad might go through my farm.  That would put me on my feet.”

“There is no certainty that the road will ever be built.  Even if it were, it would not be likely to cross your farm.”

“I see, Squire Sheldon, you are bound to have the place.”

“There is no need to put it that way, Mr. Hooper.  I lent you money on mortgage.  You can’t pay the mortgage, and of course I foreclose.  However, I will buy the farm and allow you eighteen hundred dollars for it.  That will give you five hundred dollars over and above the money you owe me.”

“The farm is worth three thousand dollars.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Hooper.  Still if you get an offer of that sum today I will advise you to sell.”

“I certainly won’t take eighteen hundred.”

“You won’t?  Then I shall foreclose, and you may have to take less.”

“Then there is only one thing to do.”

“As you say, there is only one thing to do.”

“And that is, to pay off the mortgage and clear the farm.”

“You can’t do it!” exclaimed the squire uneasily.

Cyrus Hooper’s only answer was to call “Jefferson.”

Jefferson Pettigrew entered the room, followed by Rodney.

“What does this mean?” asked the squire.