“Why not Lower California, or one of the other States?” said the doctor dryly.
“To be sure, why not?” said Griggs, and the boys, who smelt change in the air, thumped the table.
“Quiet, quiet, boys!” said the doctor sternly. “I’m afraid, neighbour Griggs, that your plantation would suffer a good deal during your absence on such a wild-goose chase.”
“What! My plantation suffer?” cried Griggs, chuckling. “Oh, come, that’s too good a joke, doctor! Suffer? Have you been round it lately?”
“Not for a year past,” was the reply. “I’ve been too busy slaving over our own.”
“Then you don’t know. Why, my good neighbour, it’s in nearly as bad a condition as that poor old fellow we have just buried.”
“Have you tried to sell it to some immigrant?”
“Have I tried to swindle some poor fellow just come into the country?” cried Griggs sharply. “No, I haven’t. I don’t set up for being much of a citizen, but, ’pon my word, doctor, I wouldn’t be such a brute as to even give it to a man on condition that he would live there and farm it. Your joint plantation here is bad enough, but my bit’s ten times worse.”
“I join issue there,” cried Wilton sharply; “it can’t be.”
“Oh, can’t it!” cried the American. “You don’t know what it’s took out of me. Why, I’d have pitched the whole thing up a couple of years ago if it hadn’t been for you three here.”