"Do
I sell many books? No, sir. Farmer-folks in Californy ain't got the
money ter spend in readin' matter. They're in big luck these times if
they kin pay the interest on their mortgages. With wheat at eighty
cents a cental, an' barley not wuth the haulin', it seems most an
impertinence to ask grangers ter buy books."
"Do you make twenty dollars a month at the business?"
She shook her head sorrowfully.
"This is September," said Ajax, "and within six weeks the rains will
begin. What will you do then?"
She regarded him wistfully, but made no reply.
"Your mule," continued Ajax, "is about played out--poor beast. Will
you stay here this winter, and keep house for us? I daresay you cook
very nicely; and next spring, if you feel like it, you can start out
bookselling again."
"My cookin' is sech as white folks kin eat, but----"
"We will pay you twenty dollars a month."
"The wages air more'n enough, but----"
"And the work will be light."
"I ain't scar't o' work," she retorted valiantly, "but----"
"It's settled, then," said Ajax, in his masterful way. "If you'll get
down, I'll unhitch the mule and put him in the barn.
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