And as I stood there by our baby’s rose-bush I thought of all the interest Jobe has paid on this place, of the taxes he has paid year in and year out, and I got to figurin, and I found he had paid for the farm nearly twice over.
And then I thought of that dream I had nearly a year ago, when I dreamt that Jobe could borrow money of the county treasury at only two per cent. And I kept on a figurin, and I found that if interest had only been two per cent. since we bought this farm, the difference between the interest we have paid and what we would have had to pay at two per cent. would have let us out. We would have had our farm nearly paid for, and we could have stayed here and taken care of baby’s little rose-bush and carried the roses to her little grave each year as long as we lived.
But interest haint two per cent., and we must leave the little bush, leave the trees, leave the flowers, leave all and go. Oh! that nearly chokes me. Where shall we go? Who will take care of baby’s grave? I cant rite any more. I feel so queer.
CHAPTER XXXV.
JOBE TALKS OF THINGS THAT ARE GONE.
JOBE is down sick with “brain fever and nervous prostration.”
The doctor says it all come from his worryin over bein foreclosed.
Jobe jist lays and moans and talks to hisself. He is out of his head most of the time.
“Jobe jist lays and moans.”