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. We had 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!” [Illustration: “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 everything we 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.”