The mountaineer took the chair Goree offered him. They who cast doubts
upon Garvey's soundness of mind had a strong witness in the man's
countenance. His face was too long, a dull saffron in hue, and
immobile as a statue's. Pale-blue, unwinking round eyes without
lashes added to the singularity of his gruesome visage. Goree was at a
loss to account for the visit.
"Everything all right at Laurel, Mr. Garvey?" he inquired.
"Everything all right, sir, and mighty pleased is Missis Garvey and me
with the property. Missis Garvey likes yo' old place, and she likes
the neighbourhood. Society is what she 'lows she wants, and she is
gettin' of it. The Rogerses, the Hapgoods, the Pratts and the Troys
hev been to see Missis Garvey, and she hev et meals to most of thar
houses. The best folks hev axed her to differ'nt kinds of doin's. I
cyan't say, Mr. Goree, that sech things suits me--fur me, give me
them thar." Garvey's huge, yellow-gloved hand flourished in the
direction of the mountains. "That's whar I b'long, 'mongst the wild
honey bees and the b'ars. But that ain't what I come fur to say, Mr.
Goree. Thar's somethin' you got what me and Missis Garvey wants to
buy."
"Buy!" echoed Goree. "From me?" Then he laughed harshly. "I reckon
you are mistaken about that.
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