"Brother," said Mr. Ringgan, lowering his tone again, "have you any loose cash you could let me have for six months or so?"
Uncle Joshua took a meditative look down the road, turned a quid of tobacco in his cheek, and finally brought his eyes again to Mr. Ringgan and answered.
"Well, I don't see as I can," said he. "You see, Josh is just a going to set up for himself at Kenton, and he'll want some help of me; and I expect that'll be about as much as I can manage to lay my hands on."
"Do you know who has any that he would be likely to lend?" said Mr. Ringgan.
"No, I don't. Money is rather scarce. For your rent, eh?"
"Yes, for my rent! The farm brings me in nothing but my living. That Didenhover is ruining me, brother Joshua."
"He's feathering his own nest, I reckon."
"You may swear to that. There wa'n't as many bushels of grain, by one fourth, when they were threshed out last year, as I had calculated there would be in the field. I don't know what on earth he could have done with it. I suppose it'll be the same thing over this year."
"May be he has served you as Deacon Travis was served by one of his help last season the rascal bored holes in the granary floor and let out the corn so, and Travis couldn't contrive how his grain went till the floor was empty next spring, and then he see how it was."
"Ha! did he catch the fellow?"