It jist seems one trouble brings on another. If the law would make the banker (contract or no contract) take the same kind of money for interest as it makes Jobe take for wheat, Jobe wouldent be down with brain fever and sick from worryin. I wonder why laws haint made as much in favor of hard-workin poor people as rich people who sets in offices and dont do any hard work. I see Congress and Mr. Cleveland are a goin to issue more bonds on the people, and sell them at the post-offices to the popular people. Jobe and me cant invest. CHAPTER XXXVI. BILL BOWERS IS ON THE FENCE. JOBE is able to be up. We have been foreclosed, and ex-Congressman Richer has the farm back. We have a notice in writin to vacate these premises on or before the first day of March. Jobe bein sick, neither of us was to town the day our old home was sold by the sheriff. I felt bad all that day—felt jist like somethin awful was about to happen. Jobe seemed weaker and more restless than usual. Bill Bowers rode by our place in the evenin, stopped at the gate and hollered. I went to the door, hopin agin hope that maybe for some unknown reason the foreclosin hadent been done. But as soon as I laid eyes on Bill I knode our home was gone. He hemmed and hawed and stammered, tryin to say somethin that was hard for him to say. Says I: “Out with it, Bill; we are prepared for the wust.” “Well, Betsy,” says he, “its gone. Congressman Richer bought it in, at jist what the mortgage and interest amounted to, and you people will have to pay the costs. Mr. Richer seemed pleased to get the old farm back agin.” [Illustration: “‘Out with it, Bill; we are prepared for the wust.’”] “Yes, Bill,” says I. “I allow he was glad to git it back. He ort to be. He has some $3,800 of interest and principal we have paid him on the farm, before he forced us to borrow the money from Banker Vinting to pay him last spring. You see, Bill, we paid him $3,800 interest and principal up to last Aprile; then last Aprile we paid him $1,800 that we borrowed from the banker, and some $300 of Jobe’s legicy money from his dead aunt, makin in all some $5,900. Now he takes $1,863 of that money and buys it back, givin him the same farm we got from him and $4,000 nearly of money besides that Jobe has airned by hard knocks.” “Well, Betsy,” says Bill, “it does look kind a tough.” “Yes,” says I, “and it dont look any tougher than it is.” “I spose not,” says Bill. “No, Bill,” says I; “if the lawmakers only knew how hard it is to be sold out and turned out of your home, they would surely make laws to make money plentier and easier to git; they would surely reduce interest.” “They ort to,” says Bill. “Yes, Bill,” says I, “we have done all we could to hold the farm, and hoped to have a home to stay in in our old age. “We have give all we raised to Congressman Richer in payments and interest and taxes and sich.