Thankful's Inheritance Part 33

"Hear you've been doin' pretty well with that boardin'-house of yours,"

he observed. "Hear it's been full up all summer."

"Who told you so?"

"Oh, I heard. I hear about all that's goin' on, one way or another. I was over there a fortni't ago."

"You were? Why didn't you stop in and see me? You haven't been there but once since the place started."

"Yes, I have. I've been by a good many times. Didn't stop, though. Too many of them city dudes around to suit me. Did you fetch your October interest money."

"No, I didn't. It ain't due till week after next. When it is I'll send it, same as I have the rest."

"All right, all right, I ain't askin' you for it. What did you come for?"

And then Thankful told him. He listened without comment until she had finished, peering over his spectacles and keeping up the eternal "weeding."

"There," concluded Mrs. Barnes, "that's what I came for. Will you do it?"

The answer was prompt enough this time.

"No, I won't," said Solomon, with decision.

Thankful was staggered.

"You won't?" she repeated. "You won't--"

"I won't lend you no more money. Why should I?"

"You shouldn't, I suppose, if you don't want to. But, the way I look at it, it would be a perfectly safe loan for you. My prospects are fine; everybody says so."

"Everybody says a whole lot of things. If I'd put up money on what everybody said I'd be puttin' up at the poorhouse, myself. But I ain't puttin' up there and I ain't puttin' up the money neither."

"All right; keep it then--keep it and sleep on it, if you want to. I can get along without it, I guess; or, if I can't, I can borrow it of somebody else."

"Humph! You're pretty sa.s.sy, seems to me, for anybody that's askin'

favors."

"I'm not askin' favors. I told you that when I first come to you. What I asked was just business and nothin' else."

"Is that so? As I understand it you're askin' to have a mortgage renewed. That may be business, or it may be a favor, 'cordin' to how you look at it."

Thankful fought down her temper. The renewal of the mortgage was a vital matter to her. If it was not renewed what should she do? What could she do? All she had in the world and all her hopes for the future centered about her property in East Wellmouth. If that were taken from her--

"Well," she admitted, "perhaps it is a favor, then."

"Perhaps 'tis. Why should I renew that mortgage? I don't cal'late to renew mortgages, as a general thing. Did I say anything about renewin'

it when I took it? I don't remember that I did."

"No, no--I guess you didn't. But I hope you will. If you don't--I--I--Solomon Cobb, that boardin'-house means everything to me.

I've put all I've got in it. It has got the best kind of a start and in another year--I--I--Please, Oh PLEASE don't close me out."

"Humph!"

"Please don't. You told me when I was here before what a lot you thought of my Uncle Abner. You knew how much he thought of me. When you think of him and what he said--"

Mr. Cobb interrupted. "Said?" he repeated, sharply. "What do you mean he said? Eh? What do YOU know he said?"

"Why--why, he told you about me. You said yourself he did. How much he thought of me, and all."

"Is that all you meant?"

"Yes, of course. What else is there to mean? Solomon, you profess to be a Christian. You knew my uncle. He did lots of favors for you; I know he did. Now--"

"Sshh! shh!" Mr. Cobb seemed strangely perturbed. He waved his hand.

"Hus.h.!.+" he repeated. "What are you draggin' Cap'n Abner and Christianity and all that in for? They ain't got nothin' to do with that mortgage.

Who said they had?"

"Why, no one said it. No one said anything; no one but me. I don't know what you mean--"

"Mean! I don't mean nothin'. There! There! Clear out and don't bother me no more today. I'm--I ain't feelin' well. Got a cold comin' on, I cal'late. Clear off home and let me alone."

"But I can't go until you tell me about that mortgage."

"Yes, you can, too. I can't tell you about nothin' just now. I got to think, ain't I? Maybe I'll renew that mortgage and maybe I won't. I'll tell you when I make up my mind. Time enough between now and spring.

I--Ah, Ezry, how be you? Come on in. Glad to see you."

The last portion of the foregoing was addressed to a man who had entered the office. Mr. Cobb did look as if he was really glad to see him.

Thankful rose. "I'll go," she said, drearily. "I suppose I might as well. But I shan't sleep much until you make up that mind of yours. And do make it up the right way, for my sake--and Uncle Abner's."

Her relative waved both hands this time.

"Shh!" he ordered, desperately. "Don't say no more now; I don't want the whole creation to know my business and yours. Go on home. I--I'll come over and see you by and by."

So, because she saw there was no use remaining, Mrs. Barnes went. The drive home, through the dismal grayness of the cloudy afternoon, seemed longer and more trying than the trip over. The dream of raising money for the spring additions and alterations was over; the High Cliff House must do its best as it was for another year at least. As to the renewal of the mortgage, there was a faint hope. Mr. Cobb's final remarks had inspired that hope. He had been on the point of refusing to renew, Thankful was sure of that. Then something was said which caused him to hesitate. Mrs. Barnes looked out between the ears of jogging George Was.h.i.+ngton and spoke her thought aloud.

"It's somethin' to do with Uncle Abner," she soliloquized. "He don't like to have Uncle Abner mentioned. Hum! I wonder what the reason is. I only wish I knew."

To Emily, who was eagerly waiting to hear the result of her cousin's visit to Solomon Cobb, Thankful told but a portion of the truth. She did say, however, that the additional loan appeared to be out of the question and she guessed they would have to get on without the needed alterations for another year. Emily thought they should not.

"If this place is to become really profitable, Auntie," she insisted, "those changes should be made. I don't see why this Mr. Cobb won't lend you the money; but, if he won't, then I'm sure someone else will, if you ask. Don't you know anyone here in East Wellmouth whom you might ask for a loan--on your prospects?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Why, yes, you do. There is Captain Bangs, for instance. He is well to do, and I'm sure he is a good friend. Why don't you ask him?"

Thankful's answer was prompt and sharp.

"Indeed I shan't," she declared.