Randal,
demanding payment of the mortgage.
Vainly did the old man plead for an extension of time. The demand was
pressed to such an extent that it even become a threat to deprive him of
his home unless payment were made within a given time.
"Martha," he said to his wife, "young Harrington is a hard man. He has
me in his power, and he will not scruple to ruin me. I think I would
better go and talk with him, telling him how little I have. It may be he
will pity two old people, and allow us better terms."
"But husband, you are not used to traveling; Harrowtown is a hundred
miles away, and you are old and feeble too."
"True, wife; but I can talk much better than I can write, and besides,
Luke Conway lives there, you remember. I took an interest in him when he
was a poor boy; perhaps he will advise and help us, now that we are in
trouble."
At last, since he felt that he must go, Mrs. Randal reluctantly
consented, and fitted him out for the journey with great care.
The next morning was warm and sunny for November, and the old man
started for Harrowtown.
"Gideon," called Mrs. Randal as he walked slowly down the road, "be sure
to take tight hold of the railing, when you get in and out of the cars."
"I'll be careful, Martha," and with one more "good bye" wave of his
hand, the old man hurried on to take the stage, which was to carry him
to the station.
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