t time I called she was impudent to me; came near ordering me out of
the house till I made her understand that I had more right to the house
than she had."

"She puts on a good many airs for a poor woman," said Mrs. Jones. "It's
too ridiculous for a woman like her to be proud."

"If anything, she isn't as bad as that young whelp. Bob Coverdale. The
boy actually told me I wasn't respectful enough to his precious aunt. I
wonder if they'll be respectful to her in the poorhouse--where it's
likely she'll fetch up?"

"I don't see where the boy got money enough to go off," said Mrs.
Jones.

"He didn't need much to get to Boston or New York. He's probably
blackin' boots or sellin' papers in one of the two."

"I hope he is. I wonder how that sort of work will suit the young
gentleman?"

"To-morrow the time's up, and I shall foreclose the mortgage. I'll fix
up the place a little and then offer it to young Shelton. I guess he'll
be willin' to pay me fifty dollars a year rent, and that'll be pretty
good interest on my two hundred dollars."

"Have you given Mrs. Trafton any warning?"

"No, why should I? She knows perfectly well when the time is out, and
she's had time to get the money. If she's got it, well and good, but if
she hasn't, she can't complain. Oh, there's young Shelton," said the
landlord, looking out of the window.

"I'll call him and see if we can make a bargain about renting the
cottage."

"Frank Shelton!" called out Mr. Jones, raising the window.

The young fisherman paused.

"Come in; I want to speak to you."

Frank Shelton turned in from the street and the landlord commenced his
attack.

"Frank, folks say you're thinkin' of gettin' married?"

"Maybe I shall," said the young man bashfully.

"Whereabouts do you cal'late to live?"

"Well, I don't know any place."

"What do you say to the Widder Trafton's house?"

"Is she goin' to leave?"

"I think she'll have to. Fact is, Frank, I've got a mortgage on the
place which she can't pay, and I'll have to foreclose. You can have it
as soon as you want it."

"How much rent did you cal'late to ask, Mr. Jones?"

"I'd ought to have five dollars a month, but, seein' it's you," said the
politic landlord, "you may have it for fifty dollars a year."

"I'll speak to Nancy about it," said the young fisherman. "I don't want
to turn Mrs. Trafton out, but if she's got to go, I suppose I might as
well hire the house as any one else."

"Just so. I tell you,