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Updated: June 20, 2025
The door of his dingy little office was open, an' I could see the grave-rock man inside bendin' over old Welborne at his little table, pointin' at the pictures in his book and sweatin' like a nigger in a cotton-gin.
She ain't much of a hand to tell her business, and I thought she had well, about run through her pile." "She can get the money if she will have common-sense," said Welborne; "but women never know how to 'tend to business, and she may act stubborn to the end and force me to put up the land for sale. It wouldn't fetch much, and you and me'd both lose by it.
The other day when I said that about old Welborne a-sendin' you a bunch o' flowers to decorate Dick's grave I wasn't actually thinkin' about you as much as I was about Welborne an' his close-fisted ways.
He even threw light on the previous habits of the deceased, and showed at what period of life, the germ of decay was probably forming. A friend casually enquired, as they left the lecture room, whether the subject had been a patient of his own. "No!" replied the learned lecturer, "the body is that of my cousin and schoolfellow, Harry Welborne.
When Welborne was quite near, Henley suddenly said aloud: "You are a woman, but I ain't going to stand any more foolishness. You've been saying all this time that you can't get the money, and yet here is a cash offer of eight hundred dollars staring you smack-dab in the face." "I never had the offer until this morning," Dixie said, with what he recognized as astonishing diplomacy.
"I've tackled a heap of jobs," he said, as he sat down beside her, "and I've beat old Welborne more than once, but I generally steer clear of him. I've been trying to think up some way to thwart him, but it is powerful hard to devise any means to get at him.
While I was away he went it rather reckless. Why, he let one little woman that has heretofore been the brag of the county get in clean up to her neck." Old Welborne ceased smoking; his dim, blue eyes twinkled. "I'll bet a dollar to a ginger-cake I know who you mean," he said, eagerly. "Well, maybe you do and maybe you don't," Henley said.
"About as favorable now as any time," he said. "What does your load consist of?" he ran on, jovially, as he glanced behind her at the bags, boxes, coops, pails, and jars. "Odds and ends," she laughed. "I've got to make a payment to old Welborne on my debt.
I feel like I'm on the up-hill road in single harness, anyway, since I am out of debt to Welborne, and owe you, instead. When are you going to send that note over for me to sign?" "Never, if I can help it," he said. "I've let men owe me without note or security, why should I make you sign up for a trifle like that?"
Somehow Welborne never would get ready to make out the papers and turn over the money, and Uncle Tom was nearly out of his head with worry over the delay." "One of the old dog's tricks!" Henley said, angrily. "I know him through and through. But go on; go on." "Well, it was the last day before Uncle Tom was to go that Welborne finally said he was ready and had us come to his office.
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