"Your husband owed me for a half-year's interest," he began, calmly.
"My husband didn't owe you any interest money.

He paid you in work and wood." "That was for medical attendance," proceeded the doctor, imperturbably.

"He owed me half a year's interest.

I considered it best for your interests, as well as mine, to foreclose, and should have done so had not Squire Merritt taken the matter out of my hands.
I should advise him to a like measure, but he is his own best judge." "Squire Merritt will not foreclose," said Eliphalet Means; "and he will be easy about the payments." "Well," said Ann, with a strange, stony look, "I guess I understand.
I'm satisfied." Doctor Prescott gathered up his medicine-chest, bade the others a gruff, ceremonious good-morning, and went out.

His sulky had been drawn up before the gate for some time, and Jake Noyes had been lounging about the yard.
The lawyer and the Squire lingered, as they had yet the business regarding the sale of the woodland to arrange.
Curiously enough, Ann was docile as one could wish about that.
Whether her previous struggle had exhausted her or whether she began to feel some confidence in her advisers, they could not tell.