Frank closed up his business with Nelson Cady and the other boys. The old store building was vacated. Markham was to go with them to Pleasantville. Mrs. Ismond was to spend the day until train time with an old neighbor. Frank and Markham were also invited there to dinner. They had just finished the meal. Frank was looking over a time-table and telling of a letter he had received from Darry Haven that morning, when there came a thundering knock at the front door. “Frank,” said Mrs. Ismond, in quite a startled tone, as her hostess opened the front door, “it is that man, Mr. Dorsett.” “Is the widow Ismond here?” demanded Dorsett’s gruff tones. “Mrs. Ismond is here, yes,” replied her friend. “Won’t you come in, sir?” “No,” sneered Dorsett, “short and sweet is my errand.” “What do you want of my mother, Mr. Dorsett?” demanded Frank, stepping to the open doorway. “Oh, you’re here, are you?” snarled Dorsett. “Frank, do not have any words with him,” spoke Mrs. Ismond, hastening to her son’s side. Dorsett stood outside. With him was a low-browed fellow whom Frank recognized as a chronic hanger-on about the village justice’s place. “I’ve come--with my deputy and witness, ma’am,” announced Dorsett, “to inform you that I have learned that you are about to leave town.” “Yes, that is correct,” answered Mrs. Ismond. “Very well, then here,” and he produced a legal-looking slip of paper, “is a little bill you will have to settle first.” “We owe you nothing that I am aware of,” said Mrs. Ismond. “Mistake,” snapped Dorsett. “When I sued on my claim to your homestead, I entered judgment against you for the costs of court. There’s the amount--fifty-seven dollars.” “And not satisfied with robbing me of my home and my income, in fact everything I had in the world, you have the heartlessness to press such a claim as this at such a time?” asked Mrs. Ismond bitterly. “Law is law,” prated the mean old usurer. “Why have you never mentioned this before?” demanded Frank, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Because, you insolent young snip,” retorted old Dorsett, “I wanted to pay you off for some of your fine airs.” “Well, Mr. Dorsett,” said Mrs. Ismond, “I shall contest this unjust claim.” “All right,” jeered Dorsett, retreating down the steps, and beckoning to his companion, “then within thirty minutes I’ll put an embargo on your leaving the county until I have my money, according to law.” Mrs. Ismond sunk to a chair quite pale and distressed. “Frank,” she gasped in a frightened way, “what is he going to do?” “Some mean trick, be sure of that,” said Frank. “Mother, I’ll stay here ten years but I will never pay that outrageous claim.” “Be assured I would never let you,” replied his mother, firmly. “I wish I knew what he was up to?” murmured Frank in a troubled way. “Leave that for me to find out for you,” said Markham briskly, bolting from the house like a shot. CHAPTER XV A PIECE OF CHALK