e house is more mine than yours already, Mrs.
Barclay. The sum I have advanced on mortgage is two-thirds of the
value of the property."

"I dispute that, sir."

"Let it pass," said the squire, with a wave of the hand. "Call it
three-fifths, if you will. Even then the property is more mine than
yours. Women don't understand business, or you would see matters in a
different light."

"I am a woman, it is true, but I understand very well that you wish to
take advantage of me," said the widow, not without excusable
bitterness.

"My good lady, you forget that I am ready to cancel the mortgage and
pay you three hundred and fifty dollars for the house. Now, three
hundred and fifty dollars is a handsome sum--a very handsome sum. You
could put it in the savings bank and it would yield you quite a
comfortable income."

"Twenty dollars, more or less," said Mrs. Barclay. "Is that what you
call a comfortable income? How long do you think it would keep us
alive?"

"Added, of course, to your son's wages. Ben is now able to earn good
wages."

"He earns four dollars a week, and that is our main dependence."

"I congratulate you. I didn't suppose Mr. Crawford paid such high
wages."

"Ben earns every cent of it."

"Very possibly. By the way, what is this that Tom was telling me
about Ben being sent to New York to buy goods for the store?"

"It is true, if that is what you mean."

"Bless my soul! It is very strange of Crawford, and I may add, not
very judicious."

"I suppose Mr. Crawford is the best judge of that, sir."

"Even if the boy were competent, which is not for a moment to be
thought of, it is calculated to foster his self-conceit."

"Ben is not self-conceited," said Mrs. Barclay, ready to resent any
slur upon her boy. "He has excellent business capacity, and if he
were older I should not need to ask favors of anyone."

"You are a mother, and naturally set an exaggerated estimate upon your
son's ability, which, I presume, is respectable, but probably not
more. However, let that pass. I did not call to discuss Ben but to
inquire whether you had not thought better of the matter we discussed
the other evening."

"I never shall, Squire Davenport. When the time comes you can
foreclose, if you like, but it will never be done with my consent."

"Ahem! Your consent will not be required."

"And let me tell you, Squire Davenport, if you do this wicked thing,
it won't benefit you in the end."

Squ