¬ÝSanders‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, gentlemen and ladies, this sure is gwine to be a good cotton season. I remember‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù And he ran on endlessly, now to this one, now to that, now to all, his little eyes all the while dancing insinuatingly here and there. About nine o‚Äôclock a buggy drove up and Carter and Simpson came in‚ÅÝ‚ÄîCarter, a silent, strong-faced, brown laborer, who listened and looked, and Simpson, a worried nervous man, who sat still with difficulty and commenced many sentences but did not finish them. Alwyn looked at his watch and at Zora, but she gave no sign until they heard a rollicking song outside and Tylor burst into the room. He was nearly seven feet high and broad-shouldered, yellow, with curling hair and laughing brown eyes. He was chewing an enormous quid of tobacco, the juice of which he distributed generously, and had had just liquor enough to make him jolly. His entrance was a breeze and a roar.
Alwyn then undertook to explain the land scheme.
‚ÄúIt is the best land in the county‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
“When it’s cl’ared,” interrupted Johnson, and Simpson looked alarmed.
‚ÄúIt is partially cleared,‚Äù continued Alwyn, ‚Äúand our plan is to sell off small twenty-acre farms‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
‚ÄúYou can‚Äôt do nothing on twenty acres‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù began Johnson, but Tylor laid his huge hand right over his mouth and said briefly:
“Shut up!”
Alwyn started again: “We shall sell a few