The Colonel saw her, too, and was uneasy, for he knew that Miss Smith had a sharp tongue and a most disconcerting method of argument, which he, as a Southern gentleman, courteous to all white females, even if they did eat with “niggers,” could not properly answer. He received her with courtesy, offered a chair, laid aside his cigar, and essayed some general remarks on cotton weather. But Miss Smith plunged into her subject:
“Colonel Cresswell, I’m thinking of raising some money from a mortgage on our school property.”
The Colonel’s face involuntarily lighted up. He thought he saw the beginning of the end of an institution which had been a thorn in his flesh ever since Tolliver, in a fit of rage, had sold land for a Negro school.
“H’m,” he reflected deprecatingly, wiping his brow.
“I need some ready money,” she continued, “to keep from curtailing our work.”
“Indeed?”
‚ÄúI have good prospects in a year or so‚Äù‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe Colonel looked up sharply, but said nothing‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äúand so I thought of a mortgage.‚Äù
“Money is pretty tight,” was the Colonel’s first objection.
“The land is worth, you know, at least fifty dollars an acre.”
“Not more than twenty-five dollars, I fear.”
“Why, you wanted seventy-five dollars for poorer land last year! We have two hundred acres.” It was not for nothing that this lady had been born in New England.