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"Zora," he yodled, and she waved her apron. He eased her burden to the ground and they sat down together, he nervous and eager; she silent, passive, but her eyes restless. Bles was full of his plans. "Zora," he said, "we'll make it the finest bale ever raised in Tooms; we'll just work it to the inch just love it into life." She considered the matter intently.
John had met this objection with, "Humph!" as he left for his office. Next day he had returned to the subject. "Been looking up Tooms County. Find some Cresswells there big plantations rated at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Some others, too; big cotton county." "You ought to know, John, if I teach Negroes I'll scarcely see much of people in my own class." "Nonsense! Butt in. Show off.
The dashing young Miss Easterly was more to his taste. He intended to have a wife like that one of these days. "Mary," said he to his sister as he finally rose to go, "tell me about the Cresswells." Mary explained to him at length the impossibility of her knowing much about the local white aristocracy of Tooms County, and then told him all she had heard. "Mrs. Grey talked to you much?" "Yes."
Taylor over his fish was about to deny all knowledge of any sort on the subject, but all at once he recollected his sister, and a sudden gleam of light radiated his mental gloom. "Have a sister who is er devoting herself to teaching them," he said. "Is that so!" cried Mrs. Grey, joyfully. "Where is she?" "In Tooms County, Alabama in " Mr.
There seemed no analogy that she knew. Here was a unique thing, and she climbed to her bedroom and stared at the stars. Four John Taylor had written to his sister. He wanted information, very definite information, about Tooms County cotton; about its stores, its people especially its people. He propounded a dozen questions, sharp, searching questions, and he wanted the answers tomorrow.
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