Free Where Two Ways Met by Grace Livingston Hill

great, deep sobs.
    “Now look here, kid, that’s no way to react in a situation like this. Straighten up, and let’s see what we can do about it.”
    The boy sat up half angrily, and his voice shook hoarsely.
    “But there isn’t anything we
can
do! My father said so. Tomorrow is the last day to make his next payment on the house, and we haven’t got the money, and the man at the bank said if he didn’t bring it before noon tomorrow, we’d lose the house. All my father has worked so hard to pay! And it’s all paid now but two last payments, too, and he’s goin’ to lose it
all
, and he just can’t bear it! It’s too much!”
    “Well, now mop up and let’s see about this,” said Paige comfortingly. “The end of the world hasn’t come yet, and there are always things that can be done. You take my handkerchief and dry those tears. We’ve got important things to do. If that money’s got to be paid by tomorrow noon, we’ve got to get a hustle on and find the money. How much is it, do you know?”
    “Uh-huh! It’s seventy-five dollars interest, and a hundred on the principal. And Dad’s been everywhere all day tryin’ ta borra some. He’s only got forty-five himself, an’ some o’ that he had ta use ta go places to try an’ borra, but nobody had enny ta spare, an’ dad came home so sick he couldn’t stand up. He went off without even a bite ta eat.”
    “Well, now that’s too bad,” said Paige, “but look here, we’ve got more important things to do right now than bother about that money. I know places where we can get money. But what we need first is to see that your father is looked after. Has he had anything to eat yet since he came back?”
    “Nope,” said the boy, “he said he never could eat again. Hadn’t any right to eat ’cause he was a failure.”
    “There now, kid, don’t begin that bawling again. Where is your father? We’ll see what we can do about it.”
    The boy at first wouldn’t answer. Then he said: “Dad won’t like it ef I tell ya.”
    “That’s all right, kid. I’ll make it right with your father. Where is he? He doesn’t need to know you told me. Show me where he is.”
    “He’s over on the old couch in the back shed,” said the boy, with a shudder.
    “Okay, kid! Show me where that is. We mustn’t waste any time. Your father needs something to eat, and we brought some soup and hot coffee. That’ll brace him up, and then we can talk about the other troubles. Hurry! We haven’t any time to lose.”
    At last the boy was induced to lead the way to the forlorn little bare shed behind the kitchen where the man was stretched despairingly on a broken-down sofa, partially covered with a worn Brussels carpet.
    Paige turned on his flashlight, and the motionless figure stirred and looked up.
    “Hello, brother. There you are! I’m hunting you to see if you wouldn’t like a good hot cup of coffee. Then you’ll be in better shape to help us get things straightened out.”
    “Is my—little—Nannie
gone
?” asked the man’s weak, anxious voice.
    “Why no, man. What gave you that idea? The doctor’s just gone in to see her. He’ll bring her round, and you’ve got to brace up and get ready to help us.”
    “There’s—nothing—I can—do!”
    “Oh yes, there is,” said Paige. “Wait till you’ve had a cup of that nice coffee. Does this door open into the kitchen? I thought so. Kid, suppose you get me a cup and saucer, and we’ll have your father fixed up in no time.”
    Paige threw open the old wooden door to a bare kitchen where a single candle burned on a mantel shelf. The baskets he had brought in were still on the table where he had put them. He could hear the doctor’s cheerful voice across the next room, in the bedroom beyond, then a feeble child’s voice and a mother’s sobs. Just then June Culbertson came quickly out and went efficiently to work preparing a cup of broth from the other Thermos bottle. This was some girl, taking hold of a