“G’long!” old man Sumter hit the mule a “lick,” saying viciously as she sprang forward, “You got the timber and I got the money and I don’t rectify no mistakes now; you’re old enough to have knowed what you was gittin’ ’fore you paid for it.”
“Jes’ as you please Sam Sumter, jes’ as you please”; the indignant old gentleman made a gesture as one who gladly washes his hands of a responsibility and yielding to curiosity Sumter turned toward him.
Colonel Ledbetter didn’t pause in his slow walk toward the house but he said in a tone of supreme indifference:
“I’ve had my men up there a-fellin’ them trees and the biggest of ’em, the one furthest up the hill, is a curly walnut. Five years ago I sold one like it for twelve hundred dollars and I could have give you points ’bout sellin’ yours; but seein’ you don’t rectify no mistakes, why that’s all there is about it and we’ll stick to the bargain.”
Again Sal was jerked to a stand and twisting round on a pivotal hand pressed to the seat, old man Sumter regarded his interlocutor with intense concern. But Colonel Ledbetter proceeded to the house without looking right or left and, disappointed and ireful, his neighbour went on his way.
Colonel Ledbetter resumed his seat and his grandson came and leaned against him:
“Looks like he’s plumb mad, gran’daddy.”
“Yes he is, Grover Cleveland, he’s plumb mad and he’s been so ever since I’ve knowed him and that’s mighty nigh sixty years. He’s so rarin’ mad that when the Lord throws a good thing in his way he’s too mad to see it. Now like that ar wa’nut; any man that was a-lookin’ out for virtues instid of defects would have discovered that ’twas a curly. But old man Sumter’s mad at every thing under the sun whether it’s human or beast or tree or stone; and he’s mad at ’em all the time and he’s so mad that he won’t take no notice to ’em. Jes’ like he wouldn’t take notice to me jes’ now, when I was goin’ to put more than a thousand dollars right into his hand; it would mighty nigh paid off that ar mortgage that he’s been skinnin’ himself to pay int’rest on these twenty years—for he jes’ keeps a-goin’ behind and a-goin’ behind for no airthly reason that I can see but jes’ ’cause he’s so mad all the time that he can’t study any of the arts of peace. Why his very crops fails because he hates ’em so. Grover Cleveland, don’t you never go to bein’ mad at every body all the time. Tain’t Christian, an’ more’n that it kind o’ spiles your aim so that you don’t bring down no game.”
“Was he borned that-a-way, gran’daddy?”
“I expect he was, Grover Cleveland, I expect he was.”