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By W. B. Johnson
(Copyright by W, G. Chapman.)
The night before my father died he
called me to his bedside. .He had be
come' conscious -at tie end, after
three months of speechless stupor,
ust as the- doctor had anticipated.
"Milly," he Whispered, '.'when I am
dead you -will have -enough to- live
upon. I want you to promise never
to seU the- old homstead;"
"I promise,, my dear'-I answered,
and that was all. Ho seemed to have
Ih -a- tiZ X
tasru t"1 ? YiJI
k The Most Savage-Looking Bull I
Have Ever Seen.
called himself hack to life Tvith one
wild effort in order to get my prom
ise. He- died at four o'clock in the
"Of course, you'D sell now, Miss
Street," my friends told. m6, and they
laughed wnen X announced my inten
'.awyer when he called bn, me a teyr
"Well, young lady," he said, setting
down his hat and staring' hard at me,
"you can guess what I have called
to see you about, I suppose?"
"Perhaps," 1 answered enigmati
cally. He looked at me keenly and con
tinued: "You know tha for seven years
Mr. James has been trying to get the
Street homestead. You will under
stand that when a man a very rich
man acquires a property of a hun
dred thousand acres he naturally dis
likes having his property changed
from a parallelogram into a a "
"A parallelopipedon?" I inquired,
blandly, and the lawyer lost his tem-.
"I mean that he does not want a
piece of somebody else's land plank
ed down Tight in the middle of it," he
blurted out. "The assessed value of
your property is, I believe, four thou
sand dollars. Mr. James offers you
"He rose from four thousand to fif
teen thousand in seven years," I an
swered. "But I wouldn't sell it for a
hundred thousand. la fact, I won't
sell it at all. My father migh have
sold once, although the homestead
was naturally dear to him. But when
Mr. James began his persecutions "
''That was old Mr. James," inter
rupted the lawyer, frowning. "Mr.
Cyprian James had, I admit, a vin
dictive nature. Mr. Harold James,
however, is a fine gentleman. You
know nothing about him; you "will
have nothing against him; you have
never even seen him, I believe. Now,
will you take fifteen thousand? Mr.
James is coming South to live, and "
wants your place for a shooting box."
"No," I answered "It isn't for
The lawyer rose. "Maybe the legis
lature can confiscate it," he sneered!
"The Jameses generally get their
dwn Way in the end."
"And the Streets have a hulldog-
tion of refusing. So did. Mr. James
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