CHAPTER XXIV
LOSING THE FARM
Hardly able to believe what he heard, Mr. Crosby stared at hisinformant.
"Wha--what's that you said?" he asked.
"I said the bank at Rossmore failed yesterday, and that none of thedepositors will get a cent. If you had your money there it's all gone."
"Gone! Failed! I--I don't understand."
"Well, it's just as I'm telling you. The cashier skipped off with themoney."
"With my money?"
"With everybody's money. But I got ahead of them. I heard the bank wasshaky and I drew out every cent I had there a couple of days ago. Yousee, the cashier took the cash about a week back, but he concealed histheft. Then, when the bank officials discovered it, they kept it quietfor a time, hoping to make it up. But, it seems, one of thevice-presidents was in with the cashier, and what the fellow didn'tsteal the vice-president had used in bad speculations, so the bank'swrecked."
"And my money's gone," repeated Mr. Crosby, in a dazed voice.
"I'm afraid so."
"What's happened? What's the matter, Enos?" asked Mrs. Crosby, who cameout on the porch where Mr. Jimson was. She had not heard all he said,but she gathered that there was some trouble.
"We're ruined, Debby!" exclaimed the farmer. "All our money in the bankis gone!"
"Gone?"
"Yes, the bank has failed. I'm sorry, Mr. Jimson, but I can't pay youthe interest," went on Mr. Crosby. "I intended going to Rossmore to-dayto get it for you. Now I can't."
"I don't know about that," replied the holder of the mortgage on theCrosby farm. "I don't see what the failure of the bank has to do withyou not paying me my interest."
"Why, I can't pay it if there isn't any money in the bank."
"I have nothing to do with that. I loaned you a certain sum on thisfarm. You signed a paper agreeing to pay me my interest at a certaintime. That time has come and I want my money."
"But I can't pay you if the bank has failed."
"I tell you that has nothing to do with me!" exclaimed Mr. Jimsonangrily. "I want my money--that's all. How am I to know you had theinterest in the bank?"
"But I tell you I did!"
"Humph! A man's word isn't good for much nowadays. I want my interest,and I intend to have it."
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Jimson," said Mr. Crosby in a strained voice, "butI haven't got it."
"Then you'll have to get it. Take it from some other bank."
"Do I look like a man who had money in two banks?" demanded the poorfarmer. "I guess not! It takes all I can rake and scrape to make aliving and pay the interest. I put the money for the mortgage in thebank where it would be safe. I didn't know the bank would fail."
"Well, you'll have to get it somewhere," went on the mortgage holder."Sell some of your things, or--or something."
"I haven't much left to sell--unless I sell myself, and I'm pretty muchof a slave the way it is."
"Huh! Any man who can afford to send his sons out West on a pleasuretrip ought to have the money to pay his interest," retorted Mr. Jimson.
"My sons did not go on a pleasure trip," answered Mr. Crosby. "They wentto hunt for gold."
"And a mighty foolish excursion it was, too. Why didn't you send them tohunt for the fairy bag of gold at the foot of the rainbow? There wouldhave been about as much sense in it."
"They went with an experienced miner, Mr. Jimson. Besides, my boys hadearned a vacation."
"Oh, they had, eh? Then why don't they send back some gold nuggets? Whydon't they pay the interest?"
"They would if they could. Can't you wait a few weeks? I may be able toget it together again. Or the officers may catch that cashier and getsome of the money back."
"I'll not wait one day. As for catching that cashier, I don't believethey'll do it. The money is gone. You know what the agreement is in themortgage. Either you pay up my interest the day it is due, or take theconsequences."
"And what are the consequences?" asked Mrs. Crosby, who had been ananxious listener to this conversation.
"The farm will be sold," replied Mr. Jimson. "That is my right andprivilege. All I get above the amount of the mortgage and the sheriff'sfee will go to you, of course, but I don't imagine it will be much. NowI haven't any time to stand here talking to you. Have you my interest?Yes or no. To-day is the day it's due."
"I'm sorry, but I haven't got it," replied Mr. Crosby.
"All right; then I'll instruct the sheriff to sell the farm."
"Oh, you wouldn't do that, would you?" exclaimed Mrs. Crosby.
"Of course I will. Why not? That's business. I don't lend money for fun.You'd better get ready to move. Maybe you can go out West and dig gold."And with that mean reminder Mr. Jimson drove off.
The misfortune was such a terrible one that at first the Crosby familycould hardly realize it. They were stunned. But it was not long beforethey awoke to a realization of what it meant.
Mr. Crosby tried in vain to raise the money, so unexpectedly lost, topay the interest. He could borrow from no one, as he had nothing hecould offer as security. He had a small sum put away for the needs ofthe winter, but this he knew it would be unsafe to touch.
So a few days after the visit of Mr. Jimson, notices were put up on thehouse, barn and other buildings of the farm, stating that they would besold at public auction, under foreclosure proceedings, because theinterest on the mortgage was unpaid.
And some time later that sad event happened. Quite a crowd of farmersgathered at the Crosby farm to bid on it. It was a good piece of land,but times were dull, and when all expenses had been met, including themortgage, interest and sheriff's fees, there was only a few hundreddollars left for Mr. Crosby, his wife and daughter. Most of theirpossessions had been sold, as a chattel mortgage had been given as alast resort to raise the cash for the interest.
"And this is what I have left after twenty years of hard work," said Mr.Crosby sadly when the auction was over and he had received the fewhundred dollars.