“Great heavens! Look at this cotton!” he ejaculated. His father approached. The cotton lay in silken handfuls, clean and shimmering, with threads full two inches long. The idlers, black and white, clustered round, gazing at it, and fingering it with repeated exclamations of astonishment.
“Where did this come from?” asked the Colonel sharply. He and Harry were both eying the girl intently.
“I raised it in the swamp,” Zora replied quietly, in a dead voice. There was no pride of achievement in her manner, no gladness; all that had flown.
“Is that all?”
“No, sir; I think there’s two bales.”
‚ÄúTwo bales! Where is it? How the devil‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù The Colonel was forgetting his guests, but Harry intervened.
“You’ll need to get it picked right off,” he suggested.
“It’s all picked, sir.”
“But where is it?”
‚ÄúIf you‚Äôll send a wagon, sir‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
But the Colonel hardly waited.
‚ÄúHere you, Jim, take the big mules and drive like‚ÅÝ‚ÄîWhere‚Äôs that wench?‚Äù
But Zora was already striding on ahead, and was far up the red road when the great mules galloped into sight and the long whip snapped above their backs.