“Mr. Betts,” said Major Carey, nervously, “does this boy know what he is talking about?”
“Looks like it?” laughed the young lawyer, taking a blue envelope from his pocket in which the Virginian could not fail to note an ample supply of currency. “We were afraid the Barber Bank might not like the looks of our check.”
Major Carey, red in the face and thick of speech, sprang to his feet.
“This is a bluff,” he exclaimed. “What are you trying to do?”
“Not trying,” said Morey in turn, and himself white about the mouth. “I’m just taking up my mother’s obligations. Then her farm will be clear and free from debt.”
The planter sank back in his chair.
“You should have talked to me about this, Morey. I’d have bought that land from you.”
“You can get it yet,” smiled Morey. “It’ll be on the market in a few days. The price is fifty dollars an acre, cash.”
Major Carey was upset. He retired to the bank below and returned in a few moments with Mr. Bradner, his son-in-law. But the latter was equally disturbed. There was nothing to do but produce the notes and prepare a statement. The moment this was ready Morey interrupted the proceedings again.