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Updated: May 8, 2025
Greening accepted that as proof that her argument was indubitable. "It can't be true!" said Ollie. "Well, it gits the best of me!" sighed Greening, shaking his uncombed head. "Isom he was too much of a business man to go and try to play off a joke like that on anybody."
He asked Joe pointedly, and swung back to that question abruptly and with sharp challenge many times, whether he ever made love to Ollie; whether he ever held her hands, kissed her, talked with her when Isom was not by to hear what was said. The people snuggled down and forgot the oncoming darkness, the gray forerunner of which already had invaded the room as they listened.
The thought that Morgan and Ollie were alone in the house almost threw him into a fever of panic and haste. He must not be guilty of such an oversight again; he must stand like a stern wall between them, and be able to account for his trust to Isom with unclouded heart. Until the time he had entered Isom Chase's house, temptation never had come near Joe Newbolt.
She was serving, as he had married her to serve, as he had brought her there in unrecompensed bondage to serve, and hope was gone from her horizon, and her tears were undried upon her cheeks. Isom had profited by a good day's work from Joe, and he had not been obliged to drive him to obtain it.
"Now, look a-here, Joe," Isom began, in quite a changed tone, "don't you fly up and leave an old man in the lurch that way." "You know what I said," Joe told him. "I'll give in to you, Joe; I'll give you everything you ask for, and more," yielded Isom, seeing that Joe intended to leave. "I'll put it in writing if you want me to Joe I'll do anything to keep you, son.
It was there on the bench this morning with his bundle. I put it up by his bed." "Hum-m," said Isom reflectively, as if considering it deeply. Then: "Well, I guess it's all right." Isom sat a good while, fingering his stiff beard.
It might last a day, and then it might tie a man up for two or three weeks, but Isom was able to leave home with a more comfortable feeling than ever before. He had a trustworthy servant to leave behind him, one in whose hands everything would be safe, under whose energy and conscientious effort nothing would drag or fall behind.
That was Isom, a pale little fellow whom Rome had left in old Gabe's care; and he, though a Stetson and a half-brother to Rome, was not counted, because he was only a boy and a foundling, and because his ways were queer. There was no open rupture, no organized division that might happen no more. The mischief was individual now, and ambushing was more common.
"A rope gits rotten in the water, 'n' a tide is mighty apt to break it." Old Gabe said that "mebbe that wus so," but he had no chain to waste; he reckoned a rope was strong enough, and he started home. "Old Gabe don't seem to keer much now 'bout Isom," said the Brayton. "Folks say he tuk on so awful at fust that hit looked like he wus goin' crazy. He's gittin' downright peert again. Hello!"
It did not cost Isom so many pangs to minister to the gross appetite of his bound boy as the spring weeks marched into summer, for gooseberries followed rhubarb, then came green peas and potatoes from the garden that Ollie had planted and tilled under her husband's orders.
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