somethin' else. Emily, Mrs. Pearson's dyin' leaves me without a job. Oh,
of course I know I could 'most likely get another chance at nursin' or
keepin' house for somebody, but, to tell you the truth, I'm gettin'
kind of tired of that sort of thing. Other folks' houses are like other
folks' ailments; they don't interest you as much as your own do. I'm
sick of askin' somebody else what they want for dinner; I'd like to get
my own dinner, or, at least, if somebody else is to eat with me, I want
to decide myself what they'll have to eat. I want to run my own house
once more afore I die. And it seems--yes, it seems to me as if here was
the chance; nothin' but a chance, and a risky one, but a chance just the
same. Emily, I'm thinkin' of fixin' up Uncle Abner's old rattletrap and
openin' a boardin'-house for summer folks in it.

"Yes, yes; I know," she continued, noticing the expression on her
companion's face. "There's as much objection to the plan as there is
slack managin' in this hotel, and that's some consider'ble. Fust off,
it'll cost money. Well; I've saved a little money and those cranberry
bog shares Mrs. Pearson left me will sell for two thousand at least.
That would be enough, maybe, if I wanted to risk it all, but I don't.
I've got another scheme. This property of mine down here is free and
clear, but, on account of its location and the view, Cap'n Bangs tells
me it's worth consider'ble more than I thought it was. I believe--yes, I
do believe I could put a mortgage on it for enough to pay for the fixin'
over, maybe more."

Emily interrupted.

"But, Auntie," she said, "a mortgage is a debt, isn't it? A debt that
must be paid. And if you borrow from a stranger--"