Mrs. Cannon, however, had instantly resumed her monologue on business.
"They all think to give the old woman the go-by: a sick man's no good,
and there's that wife of Van Dorn's hopin' to git him yit. By God! she
sha'n't have him in his shroud. No; I'll recruit from young material.
Ruin 'em when they's boys, and, while you kin pet 'em, they'll do your
work! I have one nigger in the garret Joe wants to burn: he's my nigger,
and I'll let him loose to bring me more niggers. Money is what I need to
put on a bold front: Huldy must fetch it!"
With this resolution Patty Cannon mounted the stairs to a room on the
second floor, and, without knocking, pushed her way in.
A man of a voluptuous form and face, like one overfed, yet on the best,
and with stiff, military shoulders, and of colors warm in tint, yet cold
in expression, blue eyes, and rich, wine-lined cheeks and lips, that
still seemed hard and self-indulged, spoke up at once:
"Always knock, Patty! it's more conservative. My way in life is to reach
my point, but respect all the forms. What do you want?"
"When do you leave for Baltimore, Cunnil McLane?"
"As soon as Joe returns with my dear sister's property: to-morrow, I
hope."
"You can take Huldy Bruington if you pay my price for her: two thousand
dollars down. If you won't give it, she shall be married to some young
kidnapper, who will fetch twice that pile for her in niggers.
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