Dad was n't at home.

He never was when the storekeeper came; he generally contrived to be away, up the paddock somewhere or amongst the corn--if any was growing.

The storekeeper waited an hour or so, but Dad did n't turn up.

When he was gone, though, Dad walked in and asked Mother what he had said.

Mother was seated on the sofa, troubled-looking.
"He must be paid by next week," she said, bursting into tears, "or the place'll be sold over our heads." Dad stood with his back to the fire-place, his hand locked behind him, watching the flies swarming on the table.
Dave came in.