CHAPTER VI.BETTY, THE DRIVIN ANIMAL.
EVER since we got that letter from Congressman Richer, demandin his $2,100 by the fust of Aprile, Jobe has been scourin the country fur and near tryin to borrow the money, and, poor man, he is worse destracted than ever. Things haint like they use to be. Nobody seems to have any money to lend. He finds lots of people a huntin money, but nobody a findin any. He has been to Sandyville, and Mineral Pint, and Zoar, and way up in Stark County as fur as New Berlin, and nary the man has he found with $2,100 to lend on good security.
What to do Jobe dont know, nor neither do I.
Jobe says he will write to Mr. Richer and git him to wait a little longer, until times pick up a little.
“But,” says I, “Jobe, when will times pick up?”
And the poor man, lookin at me sadder than he has since he become my dear husband, says, says he:
“Betsy, the Lord only knows—I dont.”
And I think Jobe is right.
Well, we—that is Jobe and me, the two old parties—have decided that the interest will have to be paid whether the $2,100 is or not. So Jobe has been a rakin and a scrapin to raise what he could, and I have been a rakin and a scrapin to raise what I could.
We sold Betty the other day, the only drivin animal we had; sold her for only $42.
As the stranger went a leadin her away Jobe and me both sot down and cried. We both loved Betty. Wehad raised her from a colt. She was a purty colt, and so lovin like, Jobe he named her for me. We had intended to always keep her, and since our little Jane was taken from us we jist loved Betty as if she was a child. And, poor Betty, I know she loved us. When the stranger started to lead her away she jist looked back at Jobe and me, so pleadin like, as much as to say: “Dont let him take me away from you!”
“Jobe and me both sot down and cried.”
“Jobe and me both sot down and cried.”
“Jobe and me both sot down and cried.”
When I seen that look my heart come up in my throat, and I jist couldent hold in any longer. I busted out a cryin, and so did poor Jobe. We both sot there and cried and looked at our poor Betty as fur as we could see her, and she kept a lookin back at us, nickerin—tryin to speak the best she could.
Ever since she has been gone my heart keeps a comin up in my throat, and tears keeps comin in my eyes every time I think of her. I know it is foolish and no use, but I cant help it.
I know the interest has to be paid if it takes everythingwe have, but I cant help cryin when I think poor Betty is gone from us forever—yes, gone for interest.
Well, with the $42 for Betty and twenty-six bushels of wheat and twenty-eight bushels of corn and $14 worth of sheep, and the only brood sow we had, and 96 cents’ worth of old iron, Jobe has been able to raise $92.34, arter payin Banker Jones the discount for cashin the notes he took for the sheep and the sow, and Jobe says he cant think of another thing to sell. I jist up and says, says I:
“Jobe, its awful. Poor Betty gone for interest; our wheat gone; nearly all our corn; our sheep gone; our brood sow; and what will we have to show for it when the interest is paid? Nothin. We will owe jist as much on the mortgage as before. But Jobe, dear,” says I, “I will help you all I can to raise the balance. I will spare you a dozen hens, though layin time is just here. And there is my carpet rags, that I wanted to git made into a new carpet for the spare room; we might sell them for something. And I have them two new quilts I made last fall a year. I can spare them by patchin up the old ones to last a year or so longer. I see, too, Jobe, that feathers are a good price, considerin the times; we could sell all the feathers we have in our pillers, if you think you could sleep on straw pillers awhile, until times git better. If you say so, Jobe, Ile gether all these things up and we will take them to town and sell them for what we can git. The Lord knows, Jobe, I am willin to do all I can to help you raise the interest money.”
As I looked at him I saw big tears rollin down his wrinkled cheek.
Whether he was thinkin of poor Betty, or me a sellin the pillers, or what, I dont know. He said nothin, but turned aside and walked out toward the barn. I saw him usin his hankercher as he went.
Now, though I be crazy on what I read in them noosepapers, though I be so crazy that I dream about it, I would like to ask you if my dream about the new money plan, and the county treasurer, and borrowing money at two per cent., though that dream, Bill Bowers and all, come from the mind of a crazy woman, sleepin alone—I say, wouldent it be a godsend to Jobe and his likes if he could go to the county treasurer this spring and if, by givin the same kind of a mortgage he gave Congressman Richer, he could git the money to pay Mr. Richer off at only two per cent.? Next year our interest would only be a little over $40.
And, oh, how that lump comes up in my throat when I think that if we had had sich a law this Aprile we need not have sold poor Betty.
Would it not be better to have a State law authorizin our county treasurer to receive deposits, and loan money at a low interest, even if we had to take tax off from money to do it, than to have people sellin the things they love, doin without the things they ort to have, and losin their homes? Who would sich a law hurt? Congressman Richer and his likes would git their money if they wanted it, and Jobe and his likes would be able to pay two per cent. interest and some on the mortgage every year. And jist to think, if interest was less, the difference in interest alone would pay off all the mortgages in this county in a few years.
Then people would live in homes of their own, in homes with no mortgages on them.
Everybody would be out of debt and happy. But Ime talkin crazy agin and will have to stop until Jobe and me gits back from town.