Frank's Campaign; Or, The Farm and the Camp

“No, he wants me to renew it.”

“Of course you refused.”

“Of course I did no such thing. Do you think I am a fool?”

“You don’t mean to say that you agreed to renew it?” demanded John, in angry amazement.

Squire Haynes rather enjoyed John’s mystification.

“Come,” said he, “I’m afraid you’ll never make a lawyer if you’re not sharper than that comes to. Never reveal your plans to your adversary. That’s an important principle. If I had refused, he would have gone to work, and in ten days between now and the first of July, he’d have managed in some way to scrape together the eight hundred dollars. He’s got half of it now.”

“What did you tell him, then?”

“I put him off by telling him not to trouble himself—that I would not foreclose the mortgage unless I had unexpected occasion for the money.”

“Yes, I see,” said John, his face brightening at the anticipated disaster to the Frosts. “You’ll take care that there shall be some sudden occasion.”

“Yes,” said the squire complacently. “I’ll have a note come due, which I had not thought about, or something of the kind.”

“Oh, that’ll be bully.”

“Don’t use such low words, John. I have repeatedly requested you to be more careful about your language. By the way, your teacher told me yesterday that you are not doing as well now as formerly.”

“Oh, he’s an old muff. Besides, he’s got a spite against me. I should do a good deal better at another school.”

“We’ll see about that. But I suspect he’s partly right.”

“Well, how can a feller study when he knows the teacher is determined to be down upon him?”

“‘Feller!’ I am shocked at hearing you use that word. ‘Down upon him,’ too!”

“Very well; let me go where I won’t hear such language spoken.”

It would have been well if Squire Haynes had been as much shocked by bad actions as by low language.

This little disagreement over, they began again to anticipate with pleasure the effect of the squire’s premeditated blow upon the Frosts.

“We’ll come up with ‘em?” said John, with inward exultation.

Meanwhile, though the squire was entirely unconscious of it, there was a sword hanging over his own head.

CHAPTER XXXI. SQUIRE HAYNES SPRINGS HIS TRAP

As intimated in the last chapter, Frank determined to see if he could not raise the money necessary to pay off the mortgage in case it should be necessary to do so.

Farmer Maynard was a man in very good circumstances. He owned an excellent farm, which yielded more than enough to support his family. Probably he had one or two thousand dollars laid aside.

“I think he will help me,” Frank said to himself, “I’ll go to him.”

He went to the house, and was directed to the barn. There he found the farmer engaged in mending a hoe-handle, which had been broken, by splicing it.

He unfolded his business. The farmer listened attentively to his statement.

“You say the squire as much as told you that he would renew the mortgage?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trouble myself then; I’ve no doubt he’ll do it.”

“He said, unless he should have some sudden occasion for the money.”

“All right. He is a prudent man, and don’t want to bind himself. That is all. You know the most unlikely things may happen; but I don’t believe the squire’ll want the money. He’s got plenty in the bank.”

“But if he should?”

“Then he’ll wait, or take part. I suppose you can pay part.”

“Yes, half.”

“Then I guess there won’t be any chance of anything going wrong.”

“If there should,” persisted Frank, “could you lend us four hundred dollars to make up the amount?”

“I’d do it in a minute, Frank, but I hain’t got the money by me. What money I have got besides the farm is lent out in notes. Only last week I let my brother-in-law have five hundred dollars, and that leaves me pretty short.”

“Perhaps somebody else will advance the money,” said Frank, feeling a little discouraged at the result of his first application.

“Yes, most likely. But I guess you won’t need any assistance. I look upon it as certain that the mortgage will be renewed. Next fall I shall have the money, and if the squire wants to dispose of the mortgage, I shall be ready to take it off his hands.”

Frank tried to feel that he was foolish in apprehending trouble from Squire Haynes, but he found it impossible to rid himself of a vague feeling of uneasiness.

He made application to another farmer—an intimate friend of his father’s—but he had just purchased and paid for a five-acre lot adjoining his farm, and that had stripped him of money. He, too, bade Frank lay aside all anxiety, and assured him that his fears were groundless.

With this Frank had to be content.

“Perhaps I am foolish,” he said to himself. “I’ll try to think no more about it.”

He accordingly returned to his usual work, and, not wishing to trouble his mother to no purpose, resolved not to impart his fears to her. Another ground of relief suggested itself to him. Mr. Morton would probably be back on the 27th of June. Such, at least, was his anticipation when he went away. There was reason to believe that he would be both ready and willing to take up the mortgage, if needful. This thought brought back Frank’s cheerfulness.

It was somewhat dashed by the following letter which he received a day or two later from his absent friend. It was dated New York, June 25, 1863. As will appear from its tenor, it prepared Frank for a further delay in Mr. Morton’s arrival.

“DEAR FRANK: I shall not be with you quite as soon as I intended. I hope, however, to return a day or two afterward at latest. My business is going on well, and I am assured of final success. Will you ask your mother if she can accommodate an acquaintance of mine for a day or two? I shall bring him with me from New York, and shall feel indebted for the accommodation.

“Your true friend,

“HENRY MORTON.”

Frank understood at once that the acquaintance referred to must be the clerk, whose evidence was so important to Mr. Morton’s case. Being enjoined to secrecy, however, he, of course, felt that he was not at liberty to mention this.