"I certainly didn't tell a story, Mr. Z., if I said so. I thought as I stood there and saw that fire swirling around in that gale that I had never seen any one over three years old do a more foolish thing."
We faced each other squarely for a moment. "I saw murder in your eye, but I'm not afraid of wild beasts."
Gradually his face relaxed and I saw the demon had fled for the time, but it was exciting.
After this he talked naturally and pleasantly about what he was going to plant. As I left I said:—
"Remember, you can plant the crops where and how you please, I don't want to be consulted about that, you understand it; but never set a fire burning without asking me."
January 23.
Yesterday being Sunday, I invited Mr. and Mrs. Z. to come in and have service with me, which they did. They went home and made a careful toilet and returned with Sunday clothes, and hats, and kid gloves closely buttoned. I found it a little embarrassing to read the church service, but went through manfully, and a short, simple, clever sermon.
Life has become very interesting with this new problem. I told Mr. Z. the other night that I thought he had better go to my neighbor's who has a nice house in the pineland, and that I thought it would be healthier for his wife, and that of course we could break the contract by mutual consent, but he answered promptly that he did not wish to go anywhere else, that the thirty acres he had taken was the finest land he ever saw anywhere and he was going to make a pile of money for me and a pile for himself; he had been all over my neighbor's land and it did not please him as well.
I wrote to my two lawyer nephews a full account of what had happened, and they both wrote, "For heaven's sake, break the contract!" But I must bide my time to do that. The arrangement was that no money was to be paid at present; all that I owe him for carpenter's work on his house was to be taken from my share of the crop. If I were to break the contract I would have to pay him all that at once, and I have not the money. My cotton has not sold and there is nothing else to look to.
Ran out to meet mail man this morning to get a letter off and found that his horse was quite sick—could scarcely walk. Sent Dab in for the aconite and spoon and gave the horse a full dose, and in a few moments he was able to get on again.