"Well, if you don't want to undertake it, all right."
Zora looked thoughtfully across the field--
"Mr. Maxwell has a bit of land," she began meditatively.
"Worked out, and not worth five dollars an acre!" snapped the Colonel.
But he did not propose to hand Maxwell a thousand dollars. "Now, see
here, I'll treat you as well as anybody, and you know it."
"I believe so, sir," acknowledged Zora in a tone that brought a sudden
keen glance from Taylor; but her face was a mask. "I reckon I'll make
the bargain."
"All right. Bring the money and we'll fix the thing up."
"The money is here," said Zora, taking an envelope out of her bosom.
"Well, leave it here, and I'll see to it."
"But you see, sir, Miss Smith is so methodical; she expects some papers
or receipts."
"Well, it's too late tonight."
"Possibly you could sign a sort of receipt and later--"
Cresswell laughed. "Well, write one," he indulgently assented. And Zora
wrote.
When Zora left Colonel Cresswell's about noon that Sunday she knew her
work had just begun, and she walked swiftly along the country roads,
calling here and there. Would Uncle Isaac help her build a log home?
Would the boys help her some time to clear some swamp land? Would Rob
become a tenant when she asked? For this was the idle time of the year.
Crops were laid by and planting had not yet begun.
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