"Or it will after th' mortgage is
foreclosed," he finished with a sigh.
The old man looked over at his wife, who was seated in a rocking
chair, mending stockings. She was a good sewer, and members of the
theatrical troupe had her do work for them, thus enabling her to earn
a little money, for which she was very grateful.
The plight of the old people was really pitiful, with the dark shadow
of losing their home ever looming nearer. Sandy tried to be cheerful,
and several times said that perhaps at the last minute a way might be
found to save the farm. But he was not very hopeful. He worked
hard--doubly hard, since his father was able to do very little. This
made it necessary to hire help, and that left so much less profit on
the gathered crops.
"Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep watch to-night," suggested
Mr. DeVere, when the matter of the mysterious man was being
discussed. "That fellow may have designs on some of your farm
buildings, Mr. Apgar."
"That's so, he might," agreed the farmer. "Barns has been sot afire
afore this."
"Don't talk that way, Father, you'll scare the young folks," chided
his wife gently, as she looked at Ruth and smiled reassuringly.
"That'll never happen," she added, for, at the mention of the word
"fire," Ruth had glanced nervously at the door, as though the limping
man stood on the other side of it.
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