"What are we to do?" sobbed poor Mrs. Frenelle, as the parson entered the
room. "We will be driven from our dear old home, where we have spent so
many happy years! We will be penniless!"

"Hush, mother dear," remonstrated her daughter. "Don't get so discouraged.
The place may bring more than will cover the mortgage. We will have that
to start with again, and in a few years we may be able to pay everything
off. Stephen may settle down to hard, steady work and all will be well."

"Nora is right," replied the parson. "The purchaser, whoever he is, will
no doubt let you remain here, and give you a fair chance to redeem the
place. Our Glendow people, you know, have big hearts."

"Oh, I wish I could see it in that light," and Mrs. Frenelle glanced at
the clergyman through her tears. "It is Mr. Farrington I fear. His mind is
set upon having this place. He has looked upon it with greedy eyes for a
number of years. He has only a little land in connection with his store,
and his wife is always complaining that they have not enough room. She has
said on several occasions that they would own this farm some day. Then,
you see, Farrington is a candidate for the next Councillor election. He
has large ambitions, and hopes eventually to run for the Local House. He
thinks a place such as this with its fine, old-fashioned house will give
him a certain standing which he now lacks. He wants to pose as a country
gentleman, and his wife wishes to have the house in which to entertain her
distinguished guests, who, as she imagines, will visit them. Oh, to think
of Mrs. Farrington living here!" and the poor woman buried her face in her
hands.

"But perhaps someone else will outbid him," suggested Mr. Westmore. "I
would not lose heart yet."