“I’ve had an intrust in it ever sence I began watchin’ it for you an’ your paw,” said Lambert.
“You never had an interest in it, but my father is willing to pay you for keeping an eye on it, if we can agree upon terms.”
“That’s what I call business,” said Lambert, his face brightening. “How much you willin’ to give?”
“What are you willing to take?”
“I can’t set no figures till I know how much the cotton is wuth to you,” said Lambert. “How much you goin’ to get for it?”
“I can’t tell until it is sold in New York,” answered Rodney, controlling his rising anger with an effort.
“Are you tryin’ to make me b’lieve that you are goin’ to let some abolitionist run that cotton outen the country without payin’ you a cent down for it!” shouted Lambert. “I don’t b’lieve a word of it.”
“You needn’t yell so. I am not deaf.”
“Then if you aint you can hear what I’ve got to tell you,” said the man, raising his voice a full octave higher. “I won’t have no more foolin’. How much you goin’ to get for that cotton?”
“It’s none of your business. You understand that, I suppose?”