He started off, and hesitated. “Miss Smith, would Jim do to drive?”
“No,” sharply. “I want you particularly.” At another time she might have observed his anxiety, but today she was agitated. She knew she was taking a critical step.
Slowly Bles hitched up. After all it might not rain, he argued as they jogged toward town. In silence they rode on. Bles kept looking at the skies. The south was getting darker and darker. It might rain. It might rain only an hour or so, but, suppose it should rain a day‚ÅÝ‚Äîtwo days‚ÅÝ‚Äîa week?
Miss Smith was looking at her own skies and despite the promised sunrise they loomed darkly. Five thousand was needed for the land and at least another thousand for repairs. Two thousand would ‚Äúbuy‚Äù a half dozen desirable tenants by paying their debts to their present landlords. Then two thousand would be wanted for new teachers and a carpenter shop‚ÅÝ‚Äîten thousand dollars!
It was a great temptation. And yet, once in the hands of these past-masters of debt-manipulation, would her school be safe? Suppose, after all, this Grey gift‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut she caught her breath sharply just as a wet splash of rain struck upon her forehead. No. God could not be so cruel. She pushed her bonnet back: how good and cool the water felt! But on Bles as he raised the buggy top it felt hot and fiery.
He felt the coming of some great calamity, the end of a dream. This rain might stay for days; it looked like such a downpour; and that would mean the end of the Silver Fleece; the end of Zora’s hopes; the end of everything. He gulped in despairing anger and hit the staid old horse the smartest tap she had known all summer.
“Why, Bles, what’s the matter?” called Miss Smith, as the horse started forward. He murmured something about getting wet and drew up at the Toomsville bank.