Poor Jobe got up in a little bit, lookin worried.
When he come out in the kitchen I handed him his fish-horn and says, says I:
“Give us a tune, Jobe.”
He dident offer to toot a toot. He jist looked hurt.
Well, from that day to this he has been tryin to raise the money to pay Vinting, the banker, his interest. After payin all them costs in the Billot lawsuit there was very little left out of that wheat and hay money, sich as it was.
He sold our cow, and nearly all our pertaters, and then sold old Tom, our only hoss, and borrowed $5.50 from Widder Baker, when she got her penshun money, and took that $63 down to Banker Vinting and handed it to him at his bank. Vinting pushed it back to Jobe and says, says he:
“This is not accordin to contract. The contract, Mr. Gaskins, says you must pay the interest in gold. I must have gold. Gold—Mr. Gaskins.”
Jobe told him he “had no gold, that this money was all good, legal tender government money, and he would have to take it.”
Banker Vinting told him, “Gold or nothin.”
