AN EYE FOR AN EYE
By G. W. Crane
"But mother is too sick to be moved!" the girl said imploringly. She was rather slim, and a trifle taller than the average. Her face was beautiful despite the paleness of her cheeks and lightly dark circles beneath her eyes. She taught the first grade pupils in the little community and they literally worshiped her.
"If you will give me only a little more time, I am sure that I can get the money," she continued, and then waited anxiously for the wizen-faced man to reply.
"No, sir!" the latter answered roughly, as he rubbed his hands together and frowned upon the girl. "Business is business! I've been wanting that house of yours for several years, and now I'm going to have it, unless," he smiled grimly," you bring in the money to pay off the mortgage by tomorrow morning."
"But please, Mr. Seaman, I have no money! Mother's illness has taken everything I had and more, too, but if you will wait just a little longer. . . ."
"That will do! That will do!" the old man spoke in a rasping voice. "I've been too good to you already. And, then, there's that little shack at the other edge of the village. You can move into that. It won't hurt ye."
"But I tell you that mother is too ill to be moved!" the girl spoke desperately.
The shriveled old man waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal.
"Haven't you any sympathy at all?" the young woman asked in one last appeal.
"Sympathy? Bosh! That's all foolishness! It leads to bankruptcy. That's what I always used to tell your father before he died, but no, he could not see it that way," the old man spoke with infinite sarcasm. "Now don't disturb me any longer. There's the door!" and he waved a claw like hand in its direction.
The girl stood irresolutely a moment, while her face alternately
