NABOTH’S VINEYARD 291 
Jackson sent for his horse, and just before he 
mounted, I said, “Are you thinking of selling 
your farm?” 
«“T used to think of it, but I’ve been to school 
lately and can ‘do my sums’ better. No, I guess 
I won’t sell the paternal acres; but who wants 
to buy?” 
“ Kyrle, here, is looking for a farm about the 
size of yours, and to tell you the truth I should 
like him for a neighbor. It’s dollars to dough- 
nuts that I could give him a whole herd of bulls.” 
“Indeed, you can’t do anything of the kind! 
I wouldn’t take a gold dollar from you until I 
had it tested. I’m on to your curves.” 
«But seriously, Jackson, I must have more land; 
my stock will eat me out of house and home by 
the time the factory is running full steam. What 
would you say to a proposition of $10,000 for one 
hundred acres along my north line?” 
«A year ago I would have jumped at it. Now 
I say ‘nit.’ I need it all, Doctor; I told you I 
was going to tag on. But what’s the matter 
with the old lady’s quarter across your south 
road ?” 
“Nothing’s the matter with the land, only she 
won’t sell it at any price.” 
“TI know; but that drunken brute of a son will 
sell as soon as she’s under the sod, and they say 
the poor old girl is on her last legs, — down with 
distemper or some other beastly disease. I’ll tell 
you what I’ll do. I'll sound the renegade son 
