There was silence while the tall clock ticked a few moments away. The
large grey eyes had no release in their steady depths. Thus driven Uncle
Abner proceeded to explain that it was when their brother James got into
that trouble over his wife's property. Their father had been obliged to
borrow, and he (Uncle Abner), accommodated him, taking as security a
mortage on the farm.

"It was for five thousand dollars," he concluded, "and of course if he
had lived--," he paused, and walking to the window, his hands plunged
deep into his homespun pockets, gazed uncomfortably upon the broad
stretch of field and pasture so dear to the orphan nieces he was
unwittingly torturing.

The Milfords were a proud race. Proud in the sturdy yeoman spirit of
honest independence. Margaret was not long in making up her mind.

"You are right, uncle," she said with marked deliberation. "Libbie
and I have indeed had every advantage that the best schools afford.
We ought to go to work and we will. But--" and her wistful gaze swept
their beloved possessions indoor and out--"it shall be here; not
anywhere else."

"What upon earth are you driving at?" spluttered Uncle Abner, while
Elizabeth smiled acquiescence in the decision of the beloved older
sister whose word had been law since their pinafore days. Whatever the
outlook she would stand by her. "I'd like to know what you can do here!"
went on their sage adviser, muttering audibly something about the
"infernal nonsense of women folks."