The gentlemen assured her that they were not tired, and could dispense with seats.  Mr. —–­ then went up to the old woman, and proffering his hand, asked after her health in his blandest manner.

“I’m none the better for seeing you, or the like of you,” was the ungracious reply.  “You have cheated my poor boy out of his good farm; and I hope it may prove a bad bargain to you and yours.”

“Mrs. R—–­,” returned the land speculator, nothing ruffled by her unceremonious greeting, “I could not help your son giving way to drink, and getting into my debt.  If people will be so imprudent, they cannot be so stupid as to imagine that others can suffer for their folly.”

“Suffer!” repeated the old woman, flashing her small, keen black eyes upon him with a glance of withering scorn.  “You suffer!  I wonder what the widows and orphans you have cheated would say to that?  My son was a poor, weak, silly fool, to be sucked in by the like of you.  For a debt of eight hundred dollars—­the goods never cost you four hundred—­you take from us our good farm; and these, I s’pose,” pointing to my husband and me, “are the folk you sold it to.  Pray, miss,” turning quickly to me, “what might your man give for the place?”

“Three hundred pounds in cash.”

“Poor sufferer!” again sneered the hag.  “Four hundred dollars is a very small profit in as many weeks.  Well, I guess, you beat the Yankees hollow.  And pray, what brought you here to-day, scenting about you like a carrion-crow?  We have no more land for you to seize from us.”

Moodie now stepped forward, and briefly explained our situation, offering the old woman anything in reason to give up the cottage and reside with her son until he removed from the premises; which, he added, must be in a very short time.

The old dame regarded him with a sarcastic smile.  “I guess, Joe will take his own time.  The house is not built which is to receive him; and he is not a man to turn his back upon a warm hearth to camp in the wilderness.  You were green when you bought a farm of that man, without getting along with it the right of possession.”

“But, Mrs. R—–­, your son promised to go out the first of sleighing.”

“Wheugh!” said the old woman.  “Would you have a man give away his hat and leave his own head bare?  It’s neither the first snow nor the last frost that will turn Joe out of his comfortable home.  I tell you all that he will stay here, if it is only to plague you.”

Threats and remonstrances were alike useless, the old woman remained inexorable; and we were just turning to leave the house, when the cunning old fox exclaimed, “And now, what will you give me to leave my place?”

“Twelve dollars, if you give us possession next Monday,” said my husband.

“Twelve dollars!  I guess you won’t get me out for that.”

“The rent would not be worth more than a dollar a month,” said Mr. —–­, pointing with his cane to the dilapidated walls.  “Mr. Moodie has offered you a year’s rent for the place.”