At the Little Brown House

by Edward Stratemeyer

  CHAPTER XIX

  HEARTBREAK

  It was a wild, stormy, October night. The rain fell fitfully, and thehowling wind raced madly through forest and over farmland, shriekingdown chimneys, rattling windows and doors, whistling through everyconceivable crack and crevice, and rudely buffeting any traveler whochanced to be abroad. In the brown house three rosy-cheeked little maidslay fast asleep in their beds in the tiny back chamber, blissfullyunconscious of wind and rain; but in the room below Faith and Hope keptanxious vigil, awaiting Gail's return from the darkness and the storm.

  "I should have gone, too," croaked Faith, in a voice so hoarse she couldscarcely speak above a whisper.

  "No, indeed," Hope declared. "You have a dreadful cold now; but I thinkshe might have let me go. Towzer isn't enough company on such a night,and like as not he will get tired of waiting and come home without her.What was that? Oh, only the clock. Eleven! I had no idea it was solate."

  She rose from her chair and paced restlessly back and forth across theroom, pausing at every turn to look first out of one window and thenout of the other, as if trying to penetrate the inky blackness of thestormy night. The unlatched gate creaked dismally on its hinges;somewhere a door banged shut; and then an old bucket blew off the backporch and down the steps with a rattlety-clatter which made the twowatchers within start and shiver.

  Peace heard it, too, and sat bolt upright in bed, not knowing what hadawakened her, but trembling like a leaf with nervous fear. A terrificgust of wind roared around the corner, shaking the little brown housefrom rafter to foundation; the great elm trees tossed and groaned insympathy, and the leafless vines over the porch beat a mournful tattooagainst the walls.

  "Have you ever heard the wind go 'Yoooooo?' 'Tis a pitiful sound to hear! It seems to chill you through and through With a strange and speechless fear,"

  chattered Peace, hardly conscious of what she was saying. The gate shutwith a clang. "What's that? Sounded 's if--it _was_ the gate bangingand someone is coming up the steps! I wonder who it can be this time ofnight and in all this storm?"

  She listened intently for the visitor to knock. None came, but the frontdoor was opened unceremoniously, a blast of wind tore through the house,and she heard two excited, relieved voices exclaim, "Oh, Gail! Wethought you would never come. Take off your coat this minute! You aredrenched!"

  "What on earth is Gail doing out of doors in this rain?" said Peace toherself. "She was sewing when I came up to bed. I'm going to find out."Tumbling out of her warm nest, she crept softly down the stairs, andslipped behind the faded drapery which served as door to the tiny hallcloset, from which position she could watch the girls in theliving-room, and hear much of what they were saying.

  The first words which greeted her ears as the curtain fell back inposition with her behind it, were Faith's: "Oh, Gail, not Mr._Skinner_!"

  "Yes," answered the oldest sister in a strained, unnatural voice thatstruck terror to the little spy's heart, "Mr. Skinner!"

  "But I thought Mr. Hartman held the mortgage," Hope began in bewilderedtones.

  "He did, dear," Gail answered. "I supposed he still held it; we paid thelast interest money to him."

  "Then how--"

  "Two years ago Mr. Hartman signed a note for old Mr. Lowe on the LibertyRoad. The Lowes have always been considered wealthy people, and the twofamilies have been close friends for years, so he thought there would beno trouble about the note; but when it fell due in July Mr. Lowecouldn't pay, and Mr. Hartman had to. He owns quite a little property,I guess, but all his ready money had gone into fixing up his buildingsand putting up a new barn. Mr. Skinner wouldn't give an extension oftime on the note, and said he would take nothing but cash payment or themortgage on our farm. He has always wanted this place, it seems, and hadexpected to get it when papa bought it--you know the first owner was agreat friend of our family--and there was some bad feeling over it. Henever liked us, and Peace's prank with his bull settled everything. Hewas fairly insulting--"

  "Did you go to see him?" chorused the sisters.

  "Surely. I thought there might be a _chance_ of his extending the timeon the mortgage, but--he wouldn't listen to me."

  "Then we must lose the farm?"

  "We have a month more before the mortgage is due, but I don't know wherethe money to pay is coming from. I am afraid--the farm--must go." Shegasped out the words in such misery and despair that Peace found herselfcrying with the older sister across the hall.

  "What will become of us?" choked Hope after a long pause.

  "I--I don't know," murmured Gail, "unless you go to live with theneighbors until I can find something to do so I can get you all togetheragain. It seems the village people have already talked this over amongthemselves."

  "Did Peace tell you after all?" demanded Faith.

  "No, I didn't! I never said a word!" cried Peace in great indignation,and the startled sisters beheld a frowzy head thrust from behind thecloset drapery, and a pair of angry eyes glaring at them. "I won't go tolive with the Judge nor Mr. Hardman, either. Len and Cecile tease medreadfully, Hector I _predominate_ with all my heart and I can't abideMr. Hardman. He isn't square. He shouldn't have given old Skinflint the_mordige_. It b'longs to us. Oh, dear, I'll never pick raspberriesagain! That bull has made more fuss than any other person I know."

  Gail caught the shivering, sobbing child in her arms, wrapped a shawlaround her, and sought to soothe her grief by saying gently, "There,there, honey, don't cry like that! You are shaking with cold. How longhave you been in the closet, and why were you hiding there?"

  "I heard you come in and I _had_ to see what was the matter. Oh, do sayI won't have to go to the Judge or Mr. Hardman! I hate them both--"

  "Peace," reproved Gail, "you mustn't speak so. I am sorry you haveoverheard anything about the matter. Mr. Hartman had a perfect right tosell the mortgage to Mr. Skinner, and under the circumstances we can'tblame him. He wouldn't have done it if he could have helped it."

  "What I can't understand," interposed Faith, with a deep frowndisfiguring her forehead, "is why he waited this long before tellingus."

  "I guess he didn't relish breaking such news to us anyway, but he hasbeen hoping right along that Mr. Lowe would be able to pay him for thenote. Then he could buy back the mortgage, or loan us the money so wecould meet it, which amounts to the same thing. Of course, it is barelypossible that he will yet get the money in time, but we can't count onit at all. He was so broken up over the matter that he actually criedwhile he was talking to me."

  "I sh'd think he would!" stormed Peace, who could not yet understand howtheir neighbor had any excuse for selling the mortgage; neither did sheunderstand just what sort of a thing a mortgage is, but that it hadsomething to do with money and their farm was perfectly clear.

  "Isn't there someone we know who could loan us the money?" asked Hope,the hopeful, unwilling to accept the dark situation as it was presented.

  "I can't think of a soul. Most of father's close friends were ministers,and they wouldn't be able to help us. We have no relatives living. Wehaven't anybody--"

  "We have each other," whispered Hope; and Gail's clasp on the littleform in her lap tightened convulsively as she wondered vaguely how muchlonger they could say those words.

  "We have Mr. Strong, too," reminded Peace. "Maybe he knows how the moneycould be paid."

  "I had thought of asking his advice, but of course it was too stormytonight. We must wait until day."

  "If he can't help us, ask him if he won't take me," said Peace, in hermost wheedlesome tones. "I would rather live with him than with anyoneelse in the world if we have to break up our house. I thought he wouldlike to have me, too, but Mr. Jones said he wanted Allee."

  "Mr. Jones doesn't know anything about it. Don't fret, dearie! There maybe lots of ways out of our trouble without our having to separate. I_hope_ so. We have a month to think and plan; but if we must scatter fora time among our kind friends, I trust we will all go bravely and do ourbest to
please."

  "But I _can't_ go to the Judge's, Gail! He's a perfect fury, gets mad atnothing, and chaws his mustache and glares so ugly I always listen tosee whether he's going to growl like Towzer."

  "He has the finest house in town," said Faith consolingly, "and a pianoand a horse and buggy. He is going to have an automobile next summer."

  "I'd rather live with nice folks than with pianos and nautomobiles,"Peace interrupted. "I don't know what he wants of another girl, unlessit is for Len and Hector to tease."

  "I thought you liked Len?"

  "He used to be nice, but since he's began going to scollege, he'shorrid. He saw me yesterday morning in Cherry's dress, 'cause I tore mylast clean one; and he bugged his two eyes out like he was awfullys'prised, and said, 'Mah deah child, yoah dress is too long! I don'tlike the looks of it.'" She mimicked the college dude's affected airs soperfectly that the three sisters shouted with laughter, forgetting forthe moment their heavy burden of care.

  "What did you say?" asked Faith curiously, although in her heart sheknew that Len must have met his match.

  "I looped my fingers up in circles like make-b'lieve eye-glasses, andsaid, 'Mah deah man, yoah hat is too tall and yoah pants ah too wide. Idon't like the looks of them, but I am too p'lite to say so.'"

  Another shout of mirth made the rafters ring, and the trio laughed tillthey cried, much to Peace's surprise, for the scene she had justdepicted had caused her much indignation, and she could see nothingfunny about it. "If you don't be stiller you'll wake the children," shewarned them in her most grandmotherly tones, and they sobered quickly,remembering the ghost of trouble hovering over the little house.

  For a long time they sat there in silence, each one busy with her owndisturbed thoughts, unaware that the fire in the stove had died out, orthat the chimes had long since struck midnight.

  Suddenly Gail lifted her eyes from the hole in the carpet, at which shehad been staring unseeingly, glanced at the old clock on the wall, andexclaimed, "Girls, it's a quarter to one! Fly into bed, every one ofyou! School keeps tomorrow just the same. Try to lay aside this troubleat least for tonight and get a little sleep. In the morning I will speakto Mr. Strong about it--"

  "And remember to speak to God about it, too," murmured drowsy Peace,stumbling upstairs in front of the weary mother-sister.