“Now, see here, I’ll treat you as well as anybody, and you know it.”
“I believe so, sir,” acknowledged Zora in a tone that brought a sudden keen glance from Taylor; but her face was a mask. “I reckon I’ll make the bargain.”
“All right. Bring the money and we’ll fix the thing up.”
“The money is here,” said Zora, taking an envelope out of her bosom.
“Well, leave it here, and I’ll see to it.”
“But you see, sir, Miss Smith is so methodical; she expects some papers or receipts.”
“Well, it’s too late tonight.”
‚ÄúPossibly you could sign a sort of receipt and later‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
Cresswell laughed. “Well, write one,” he indulgently assented. And Zora wrote.
When Zora left Colonel Cresswell’s about noon that Sunday she knew her work had just begun, and she walked swiftly along the country roads, calling here and there. Would Uncle Isaac help her build a log home? Would the boys help her some time to clear some swamp land? Would Rob become a tenant when she asked? For this was the idle time of the year. Crops were laid by and planting had not yet begun.
This too was the time of big church meetings. She knew that in her part of the country on that day the black population, man, woman, and child, were gathered in great groups; all day they had been gathering, streaming in snakelike lines along the country roads, in well-brushed,