He owned his house and a small lot upon which it stood. Near it was a
flour-mill, whose owner held a mortgage upon Pop's house and lot. The old
negro had been compelled to borrow $200 to pay bills incurred during the
illness and subsequent funeral of the late Mrs. Thornberry, and thus to
avoid a sheriff's sale. Hence came the mortgage. It would expire on the
10th of September. Pop was almost ready to meet that date. He already had
$192 hidden in his cellar, unknown to any one.
He had heard rumours of the mill-owner's desire to build an addition to his
mill. To do this would necessitate the acquisition of contiguous property.
But Pop had not suspected any ulterior motive when the miller had offered
to lend him the money.
"I kin soon lay by 'nuff t' pay off d' mohgage, w'en I ain't got no one but
m'se'f t' puvvide foh no moah," he had said, after the loan had been made.
And, having dined on this June day, he took twenty cents from the amount
received for cherries and placed it in a cigar-box to be added to the $192.
He kept that sixteen cents with which to purchase provisions for to-morrow,
and then he walked down the quiet street to the railway station.
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