Morris, gathering up his
reins. "And, by the way, Grandison, do you expect to make that payment
on your place which is due next week?"
"Yaas, sah, sartin shuh," said Grandison. "I done tole you I'd do it,
Mahs'r Morris, an' I 'tends ter stick ter de truf."
"Now, den," said Grandison, in a tone of triumph, when Mr. Morris had
ridden away, "you see I's right in my 'clusions, and Mahs'r Morris
'grees with me."
"Dunno," said Brother 'Bijah, shaking his head, "dis is a mighty
dubersome question. You kep' dem apples clar out o' sight, Brudder
Gran'son; clar out o' sight."
It was about a week after this, quite early in the morning, that
Grandison was slowly driving into town with a horse and a wagon which he
had borrowed from a neighbor. In the wagon were three barrels of fine
apples. Suddenly, at a turn in the road, he was greatly surprised to
meet Mr. Morris, riding homeward.
"What have you in those barrels, Grandison?" inquired his landlord.
"Dey's apples, sah," was the reply, "dat I's got de job ob haulin' ter
town, sah."
Mr. Morris rode up to the wagon and removed the piece of old canvas that
was thrown over the tops of the barrels; there was no need of asking any
questions. No one but himself, for many miles around, had
"Belle-flowers" and "Jeannettes" like these.
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