"No," sharply. "I want you particularly." At another time she might have
observed his anxiety, but today she was agitated. She knew she was
taking a critical step.
Slowly Bles hitched up. After all it might not rain, he argued as they
jogged toward town. In silence they rode on. Bles kept looking at the
skies. The south was getting darker and darker. It might rain. It might
rain only an hour or so, but, suppose it should rain a day--two days--a
week?
Miss Smith was looking at her own skies and despite the promised sunrise
they loomed darkly. Five thousand was needed for the land and at least
another thousand for repairs. Two thousand would "buy" a half dozen
desirable tenants by paying their debts to their present landlords. Then
two thousand would be wanted for new teachers and a carpenter shop--ten
thousand dollars!
It was a great temptation. And yet, once in the hands of these
past-masters of debt-manipulation, would her school be safe? Suppose,
after all, this Grey gift--but she caught her breath sharply just as a
wet splash of rain struck upon her forehead. No. God could not be so
cruel. She pushed her bonnet back: how good and cool the water felt! But
on Bles as he raised the buggy top it felt hot and fiery.
He felt the coming of some great calamity, the end of a dream. This
rain might stay for days; it looked like such a downpour; and that would
mean the end of the Silver Fleece; the end of Zora's hopes; the end of
everything. He gulped in despairing anger and hit the staid old horse
the smartest tap she had known all summer.
"Why, Bles, what's the matter?" called Miss Smith, as the horse started
forward. He murmured something about getting wet and drew up at the
Toomsville bank.
Miss Smith was invited politely into the private parlor. She explained
her business. The President was there and Colonel Cresswell and one
other local director.
"I have come for a mortgage. Our land is, as you know, gentlemen, worth
at least ten thousand dollars; the buildings cost fifteen thousand
dollars; our property is, therefore, conservatively valued at
twenty-five thousand dollars. Now I want to mortgage it for"--she
hesitated--"five thousand dollars."
Colonel Cresswell was silent, but the president said:
"Money is rather scarce just now, Miss Smith; but it happens that I have
ten thousand dollars on hand, which we prefer, however, to loan in one
lump sum. Now, if the security were ample, I think perhaps you might get
this ten thousand dollars."
Miss Smith grew white; it was the sum she wanted. She tried to escape
the temptation, yet the larger amount was more than twice as desirable
to her as the smaller, and she knew that they knew it. They were trying
to tempt her; they wanted as firm a hold on the school property as
possible. And yet, why should she hesitate? It was a risk, but the
returns would be enormous--she must do it. Besides, there was the
endowment; it was certain; yes--she felt forced to close the bargain.
"Very well," she declared her decision, and they handed her the
preliminary papers. She took the pen and glanced at Mr. Cresswell; he
was smiling slightly, but nevertheless she signed her name grimly, in a
large round hand, "Sarah Smith."
_Thirteen_