“But whar in the name o' common-sense is the money to come from?” the woman hurled at her husband, as she rested one of her bony hands on the edge of the table and glared at him. “As I understand it, thar's about five thousand acres in this piece alone, an' yo're a-payin' a dollar a acre. Whar's it a-comin' from, I'd like to know? Whar's it to come from?” Bishop sniffed and ran a steady hand over his short, gray hair. “You see how little she knows o' my business,” he said to the lawyer. “Heer she's raisin' the devil an' Tom Walker about the trade an' she don't so much as know whar the money's to come from.” “How _was_ I to know?” retorted the woman, “when you've been tellin' me fer the last six months that thar wasn't enough in the bank to give the house a coat o' fresh paint an' patch the barn roof.” “You knowed I had five thousand dollars wuth o' stock in the Shoal River Cotton Mills, didn't you?” asked Bishop, defiantly, and yet with the manner of a man throwing a missile which he hoped would fall lightly. “Yes, I knowed that, but--” The woman's eyes were two small fires burning hungrily for information beyond their reach. “Well, it happens that Shoal stock is jest the same on the market as ready money, up a little to-day an' down to-morrow, but never varyin' more'n a fraction of a cent on the dollar, an' so the Tompkins heirs say they'd jest as lieve have it, an' as I'm itchin' to relieve them of the'r land, it didn't take us long to come together.” If he had struck the woman squarely in the face, she could not have shown more surprise. She became white to the lips, and with a low cry turned to her son. “Oh, Alan, don't--don't let 'im do it, it's all we have left that we can depend on! It will ruin us!” “Why, father, surely,” protested Alan, as he put his arm around his mother, “surely you can't mean to let go your mill investment which is paying fifteen per cent, to put the money into lands that may never advance in value and always be a dead weight on your hands! Think of the loss of interest and the taxes to be kept up. Father, you must listen to--” “Listen to nothin',” thundered Bishop, half rising from his chair. “Nobody axed you two to put in. It's my business an' I'm a-goin' to attend to it. I believe I'm doin' the right thing, an' that settles it.”