ardly ever come near the old
place after he was growed up. The land was all farmed out on shares, an'
his farmers mostly bamboozled him the hull time. He got consid'able
income, of course, but as things went along and they found out how slack
he was they kept bitin' off bigger chunks all the time, an' sometimes he
didn't git even the core. But all the time when he wanted money--an' he
wanted it putty often, I tell ye--the easiest way was to stick on a
morgige; an' after a spell it got so 't he'd have to give a morgige to
pay the int'rist on the other morgiges."

"But," said John, "was there nothing to the estate but land?"

[Illustration]

"Oh, yes," said David, "old Billy's father left him some consid'able
pers'nal, but after that was gone he went into the morgige bus'nis as I
tell ye. He lived mostly up to Syrchester and around, an' when he got
married he bought a place in Syrchester and lived there till Billy P.
was about twelve or thirteen year old, an' he was about fifty. By that
time he'd got 'bout to the end of his rope, an' the' wa'n't nothin' for
it but to come back here to Homeville an' make the most o' what the' was
left--an' that's what he done, let alone that he didn't make the most
on't to any pertic'ler extent. Mis' Cullom, his wife, wa'n't no help to
him. She was a city woman an' didn't take to the country no way, but
when she died it broke old Billy up wus 'n ever. She peaked an' pined,
an' died when Billy P. was about fifteen or so. Wa'al, Billy P. an' the
old man wrastled along somehow, an' the boy went to collige fer a year
or so. How they ever got along 's they did I dunno. The' was a story
that some far-off relation left old Billy some money, an' I guess that
an' what they got off'm what farms was left carried 'em along till Billy
P. was twenty-five or so, an' then he up an' got married. That was the
crownin' stroke," remarked David. "She was one o' the village
girls--respectable folks, more 'n ordinary good lookin' an' high
steppin', an' had had some schoolin'. But the old man was prouder 'n a
cock-turkey, an' thought nobody wa'n't quite good enough fer Billy P.,
an' all along kind o' reckoned that he'd marry some money an' git a new
start. But when he got married--on the quiet, you know, cause he knowed
the old man would kick--wa'al, that killed the trick, an' the old man
into the bargain. It took the gumption all out of him, an' he didn't
live a year. Wa'al, sir, it was curious, but, 's I was