I digs, an' I
plows, an' I plants, an' I hoes. But all dem things ain't 'nuf ter make
apple-trees grow in my gyardin like as dey was corn-field peas."
"Dat's so," said 'Bijah, reflectively. "Dat's too much to spec' ob any
man. But how's you gwine ter sell de apples if you ain't got 'em?"
"I's got ter git em," said Grandison. "Dar's apples 'nuf growin' roun'
an' not so fur away dat I can't tote 'em ter my house in a bahsket. It's
pow'ful hard on a man wot's worked all day ter have ter tote apples
ahfter night, but dar ain' no other way ob gittin' dat dar money."
"I spec' de orchard whar you's thinkin' o' gwine is Mahs'r Morrises,"
said the minister.
"You don' 'spose Ise gwine ter any ob dose low down orchards on de udder
side de creek, does ye? Mahs'r Morris has got the bes' apples in dis
county. Dat's de kin' wot fetch two dollars a bar'l."
"Brudder Gran'son," said 'Bijah, solemnly, "is you min' runnin on takin'
Mahs'r Morrises apples inter town an' sellin' em?"
"Well, he gits de money, don't he?" answered the other, "and if I don't
sell his apples 'taint no use sellin' none. Dem udder little nubbins
roun' heah won't fetch no two dollars a bar'l."
"Dem ain't justifyin' deeds wot's runnin' in your mind," said 'Bijah.
"Dey ain't justifyin'.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102