“And what sort of a compromise will be agreeable to your notions of justice, Mr. Van Tassel?”

“Why, sir, as Kitty is old, it would be a sad thing to drive her from the roof under which she was born.  This I’ve said and thought from the first, and say, now.  Still, I cannot part with my property without a compensation; though I’m willing to wait.  I told Mrs. Wetmore, before advertising, that if she would give a new bond, making all clear, and giving me interest on the whole sum now due, I should be willing to grant her time.  I now propose, however, as the simplest way of settling the affair, to accept from her a release of the equity of redemption, and to grant her a lease, for her own life, on a nominal rent.”

Even Marble knew enough to see the rank injustice of such an offer.  In addition to conceding the non-payment of the debt, it was securing to Van Tassel, at no distant day, the quiet possession of the farm, for somewhat less than one-third its value.  I detected symptoms of an outbreak in the mate, and was obliged to repress it by a sign, while I kept the discussion in my own hands.

“Under such an arrangement, sir,” I answered, “my friend here would be literally selling his birthright for a mess of porridge.”

“You will remember, Mr. Wallingford, that a mortgage sale, legally made, is a ticklish thing, and the courts do not like to disturb one.  This sale will take place, this day week; and the title once passed, it will not be so easy a matter to get it repassed.  Mr. Wetmore, here, does not look like a man ready to pay down a thousand dollars.”

“We shall not run the risk of letting the title pass.  I will buy the property, myself, if necessary; and should it afterwards appear that the money has been actually paid, we believe you are sufficiently secure for principal, interest, and costs.”

“You are young in the profession, Mr. Wallingford, and will come to learn the folly of advancing money for your clients.”

“I am not in the profession at all, sir, as you have erroneously supposed, but am a ship-master; and Mr. Wetmore, or Marble, as he has hitherto been called, is my mate.  Still, we are none the worse provided with the means of paying a thousand dollars—­or twenty of them, should it be necessary.”

“No lawyer!” cried Van Tassel, smiling grimly.  “A couple of sailors about to dispute the foreclosure of a mortgage!  Famous justice we should get at your hands, gentlemen!  Well, well; I now see how it is, and that this has only been an attempt to work on my sympathies for an old woman who has been living on my money these twenty years.  I rather think your $963.42, will prove to be of the same quality as your law.”

“And, yet, it struck me, Mr. Van Tassel, that you rather disliked the idea of swearing to the truth of an answer to a certain bill in Chancery, which, if I cannot draw, one Abraham Van Vechten, of Albany, can!”