"Yes, a good deal. I wanted to sell then, but Sarah Ann insisted on holding it till fall. By the way, I'm going to put all my lots, except the one by the creek, in corn next year, and raise hardly any tobacco." "All but the creek lot? Why that's the only good corn land you have, Edwin, and it isn't safe to put tobacco in it either, for it overflows a little." "Yes, I know it. But Sarah Ann is discouraged by the price we got for tobacco this year, and doesn't want me to plant the lots next season at all." "Why didn't you bring Cousin Sarah Ann over and come to dinner to-day, Cousin Edwin?" asked Miss Barksdale, coming out of the dining-room, key-basket in hand, to speak to the guests. "Oh! we've only one carriage horse now, you know. I sold the black last week, and haven't been able to find another yet." "Sold the black! Why, what was that for, Cousin Ed! I thought you specially liked him?" said Billy. "So I did; but Sarah Ann didn't like a black and a gray together, and she wouldn't let me sell the gray on any terms, though I could have matched the black at once. Winger has a colt well broken that's a perfect match for him. Come, Ewing, we must be going. Sarah Ann said we must be home to tea without fail. You'll come to The Oaks, Robert, of course. Sarah Ann will expect you very soon, and you mustn't stand on ceremony, you know, but come as often as you can while you stay at Shirley." "What do you think of Cousin Edwin, Bob?" asked Billy when the guests had gone. "That he is a very excellent person, and----" "And what? Speak out. Let's hear what you think." "Well, that he is a very dutiful husband." "Bob, I'd give a pretty for your knack at saying things. Your tongue's as soft as a feather bed. But wait till you know the madam. You'll say----" "My son, you shouldn't prejudice Robert against people he doesn't know. Sarah Ann has many good qualities--I suppose." "Well, then, I don't suppose anything of the sort, else she would have found out how good a man Cousin Edwin is long ago, and would have behaved herself better every way." "William, you are uncharitable!" "Not a bit of it, mother. Your charity is like a microscope when it is hunting for something good to say of people. Did you ever hear of the dead Dutchman?" "Do pray, Billy, don't tell me any of your anecdotes now." "Just this one, mother. There was a dead Dutchman who had been the worst Dutchman in the business. When the people came to sit up with his corpse--don't run, mother, I'm nearly through--they couldn't find anything good to say about him, and as they didn't want to say anything bad there was a profound silence in the room. Finally one old Dutchman, heaving a sigh, remarked: 'Vell, Hans vas vone goot schmoker, anyhow.' Let me see. Cousin Sarah Ann gives good dinners, anyhow, only she piles too much on the table. See how charitable I am, mother. I have actually found and designated the madam's one good point."