Now I say 'nit.' I need it all,
Doctor; I told you I was going to tag on. But what's the matter with the
old lady's quarter across your south road?"
"Nothing's the matter with the land, only she won't sell it at any
price."
"I know; but that drunken brute of a son will sell as soon as she's
under the sod, and they say the poor old girl is on her last legs,--down
with distemper or some other beastly disease. I'll tell you what I'll
do. I'll sound the renegade son and see how he measures. Some one will
get it before long, and it might as well be you."
Jackson galloped off, and Kyrle and I sat on the porch and divided the
widow's 160-acre mite. It was a good strip of land, lying a fair mile on
the south road and a quarter of a mile deep. The buildings were of no
value, the fences were ragged to a degree, but I coveted the land. It
was the vineyard of Naboth to me, and I planned its future with my
friend and accessory sitting by. I destroyed the estimable old lady's
house and barns, ran my ploughshares through her garden and flower beds,
and turned the home site into one great field of lusty corn, without so
much as saying by your leave.
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