'How much is needed, my friend?'
'I don't know,' he replied, pressing his head with his hands as if to keep it from bursting. 'How much, Phylly?'
'Twelve hundred, Master Robert—they sold us for twelve hundred?'
'Well, well, my good woman, don't feel badly any more. I'll let Master Robert have the money.'
The woman stared at me incredulously for a moment; then, while the children came and clung to my coat as if I were an old friend, she said:
'Oh! bless you, sir! bless you! I will love you, sir! the children will forever love you for it.'
A struggle seemed to be going on in Preston's mind. He was silent for some moments; then in a slow, undecided voice he said:
'It an't right; I can't take it, Kirke. I owe you now. I'm in debt elsewhere. A judgment has been got against me. My crops have turned out poorly, I've been to Virginia for money, and can't get a dollar. It would not be honest. I can't take it.'
No words can picture the look on the woman's face as she said:
'Oh! do take it, Master Robert! Do take it. I'll work. I'll make it. I can make it very soon, Master Robert. Oh! do take it!'