Fumbling for his wallet, he drew some papers from it and handed them to Helen, adding:--
"Money, Father?" she asked with indifference. "I don't believe I need any."
"Don't ye? Ye wrote 'bout mortgagin'. I didn't want to do it, 'count o' Ma, partly; but we kep' worryin' an' worryin' 'bout ye. Ma couldn't sleep o' nights or eat her victuals; an fin'lly--'Ezry,' she says, 'we was possessed to let Helen 'Lizy, at her age, an' all the chick or child we got, go off alone to the city. Ezry,' she says, 'you go fetch her home. Like's not Tim can let ye have the money,' she says; 'his wife bein' an own cousin, right in the family, y'know.' So I've brought the deeds, Sis, an'--"
"What!" cried Helen, starting up. "The deeds of the farm? Let me see!"
She reached out a shaking hand for the papers.
"I'll pay you back!" she cried. "Why didn't you come sooner? How much can you get? How much money?"
"Not much more'n three thousan', I'm afeared, on a mortgage; cap'tal's kind o' skeery--but Tim--"
Laughing hysterically, she fell back in her chair.
"I had ought 'a come sooner; an' three thousan' ain't a gre't deal, I don't suppose, here in the city; but it's been spend, spend--not that I grutch it--an' things ain't so flourishin' as they was. I'm gittin' too old to manage, mebbe--"
"Mr. Winship," I said, "Nelly has told you the truth; she doesn't need money; she--"
"Three thousand will save me!" Helen cried. "I can pay a little to everybody. I can hold out, I can--"
Behind Clesta appeared two men who gaped at Helen in momentary forgetfulness of their errand.
Helen's creditors have proved more than reasonable, with the exception of the furniture people; their demands were such that there seemed no alternative but to surrender the goods. As the men who came for them advanced into the room, stammering questions about the articles they were to remove, Helen struggled to her feet and started to meet them, then stopped, clutching at a table for support. Their eyes never left her face.
"Are they takin' your things, Sis?" asked Mr. Winship.
"Want to keep the stuff, Boss?" asked the head packer.
"Yes," I said, seeing her distress, and resolving desperately to find the means, somehow.
"It ain't none o' your look-out," interposed Mr. Winship. "Sis ain't a-goin' to be beholden to her husband, not till she's married. Ezry Winship al'ays has done for his own, an' he proposes to do, jes' as fur's he's able. Sis'll tell ye I hain't stented her--What's to pay?"