"The sale
will come off next week, and then I s'pose we'll be turned out bag
and baggage, Mother."
"Oh, Pa, I hate to hear you talk that way," she said, as she put her
trembling hand in his. The old couple made a pathetic picture as
they stood together on the porch of the white house--the house that
had been their home so many years, but out of which they were soon to
be turned by a cruel shift of fate.
"Cheer up!" said Pop Snooks, who had a leisure hour. "It's always
darkest just before dawn, you know. Something may happen to save the
farm for you."
"I'm too old to believe in miracles," replied Mr. Apgar, with a shake
of his head. "Come on in the house, Mother, and we'll begin to pack.
They can't take our things from us, anyhow, though where we'll go the
Lord only knows."
"Why, you won't have to move out, even after the mortgage was
foreclosed," said Alice, as she slipped her arm about the waist of
the trembling old lady. "I heard the sheriff say you could stay on
for some time yet."
"I know, dearie, but it wouldn't be _our_ farm, and Pa and me
wouldn't feel like stayin' when Squire Bladsell owns it. It would be
like livin' on charity. No, we'll go as soon as the sale is over. But
you're a dear, good girl to try and help us."
"They have helped us a lot, Mother--all of 'em!" exclaimed Mr.
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