The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1907-07-19

| lOngrunn1ng mortgages, Sdlu DdH-
| iel, doggedly. IL can pay off quite
| part of it before snow flies, and
the balance next year. Yo1 dou't
seem 10 realize that the dividends
will be coming in right away"
The discussion lasted for a long
time, but with no effect on either side.
"Itis no use arguing with you, Dan
iel,'' said Mrs. Lang, finally, drop
ping her voice from the key to which
| it had been raised you are clean
bewitched. But when you wake up
| sa,me day to find that you've been
swindled out of house and home,
! perhaps you will remember that l
told you beforehand" And having
thus spoken, she left the room.
When Daniel brought the note and
mortgage for his wife's signature the
next day he was quite prepared to
be met by further remonstrance, and
perhaps refusal; but much to his re-
lief she complied without word,
| although the look ON her face as she
| wrote her name under his on each
| of the two documents was certainly
eloquent.
! After Daniel had folded them and
taken them away, so far as this par.
ticular subject was concerned, there
was a silence in the Lang household
that lasted for many day.
1t was different in the town at
large. Wherever men congested the
talk was about petroleum, until it
might have seemed that boring for
oil up in Canada was Greenhill's lead
| ing home industry.
1t must be nearly forty years now
since the brief period of Mr.. Rosen-
crafts activities in Greenhill, but
that suaye and engaging gentleman
and the enterprise that he brought
to the attention of many substantial
citizens are even yet not wholly for
gotten.
Late in the autumn Daniel Lang
was drawn on the jury" and con.
sequently was absent from home for
some days.
On the day that he was expected
to return, Rosetta, the fourteen-year-
old daughter of the house. came from
an errand to the village with start.
ling news.
20 mother" she exclaimed, as she
rushed into the house, what do. you
think? Squire Marks and Deacon
Locke got back from Canada yester-
day. They had been UP there to
look after those oil-wells, and it
seems they didn't find the least sign
of OIL They couldn't find Mr.. Rosen-
craft, either, and now they say that
the shares aren't worth the paper they
are printed ON. I guess everybody is
pretty much stirred up about it. They
say Mr.. Evans takes it dreadfully
hard and talks about going to the
poorhouse."
II guess he won't go to the poor
house at present. said Mrs. Lang,
remembering a certain note she had
signed She had grown very pale
as she listened to the news, but she
made no other comment.
Mother" asked Rosetta, present
ly, chow much money has father
lost?"
F. HE hasn't lost anything to speak
Of" was the reply. Il want you to
remember that when you are away
| from home" added Mrs. Lang, signifi.
cantly.
A little later she said, with an at.
| tempt at cheerfulness, Wouldn't you
like to spend the rest of the day with
| 10 lox
there for some time. You may stay
| to supper if Aunt Emma invites you"
The girl was glad enough to escape
from what she felt to be an atmos-
phere of trouble, and Mrs. Lang was
! left alone with her thoughts to await
the coming of her husband, whom
| she expected on the stage at five
o'clock.
In spite of her abstraction, she
went about her preparations for the
evening meal with more than usual
care; and by five o'clock the sup
portable, in it's company dress of
snow-white cloth, china tea-set and
highly polished steel knives and forks,
made brave display of frosted cake,
custards, ounce preserves and other
! more substantial dishes, while from
the oven stole forth the aroma of
"cream-of-tartar biscuits" almost
ready to take their place at the
| feast.
The sound of wheels was heard,
followed by the "Whoa!" of the stage
driver; and peering through the win
dow Mrs. Lang saw her husband
walking up the path, carpet-bag in
| hand. She met him at the door. and
one glance at his face convinced her
that he had heard the news.
why, how pale you are!" she
cried, involuntarily.
Yes said he, I'm completely
broke up. This has been too much
for me. can hardly hold up my
! head"