"H'm," he reflected deprecatingly, wiping his brow.
"I need some ready money," she continued, "to keep from curtailing our
work."
"Indeed?"
"I have good prospects in a year or so"--the Colonel looked up sharply,
but said nothing--"and so I thought of a mortgage."
"Money is pretty tight," was the Colonel's first objection.
"The land is worth, you know, at least fifty dollars an acre."
"Not more than twenty-five dollars, I fear."
"Why, you wanted seventy-five dollars for poorer land last year! We have
two hundred acres." It was not for nothing that this lady had been born
in New England.
"I wouldn't reckon it as worth more than five thousand dollars,"
insisted the Colonel.
"And ten thousand dollars for improvements."
But the Colonel arose. "You had better talk to the directors of the
Jefferson Bank," he said politely. "They may accommodate you--how much
would you want?"
"Five thousand dollars," Miss Smith replied. Then she hesitated. That
would buy the land, to be sure; but money was needed to develop and run
it; to install tenants; and then, too, for new teachers. But she said
nothing more, and, nodding to his polite bow, departed. Colonel
Cresswell had noticed her hesitation, and thought of it as he settled to
his cigar again.
Bles Alwyn arose next morning and examined the sky critically.
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