The widow sat with her eyes fastened upon the papers, trembling with nervous apprehension.
Presently he broke the silence.
"About this here morgidge o' your'n," he said, "I sent ye word that I wanted to close the matter up, an' seein' 't you're here an' come fer that purpose, I guess we'd better make a job on't.

The' ain't no time like the present, as the sayin' is." "I s'pose it'll hev to be as you say," said the widow in a shaking voice.
"Mis' Cullom," said David solemnly, "_you_ know, an' I know, that I've got the repitation of bein' a hard, graspin', schemin' man.

Mebbe I be.
Mebbe I've ben hard done by all my hull life, an' have had to be; an' mebbe, now 't I've got ahead some, it's got to be second nature, an' I can't seem to help it.

'Bus'nis is bus'nis' ain't part of the golden rule, I allow, but the way it gen'ally runs, fur 's I've found out, is, 'Do unto the other feller the way he'd like to do unto you, an' do it fust.' But, if you want to keep this thing a-runnin' as it's goin' on now fer a spell longer, say one year, or two, or even three, you may, only I've got somethin' to say to ye 'fore ye elect." "Wa'al," said the poor woman, "I expect it 'd only be pilin' up wrath agin' the day o' wrath.

I can't pay the int'rist now without starvin', an' I hain't got no one to bid in the prop'ty fer me if it was to be sold." "Mis' Cullom," said David, "I said I'd got somethin' more to tell ye, an' if, when I git through, you don't think I've treated you right, includin' this mornin's confab, I hope you'll fergive me.