He sat down on
the porch and lit a strong cigar. His wife did not bother him. She
gazed complacently at the flaming foliage opposite, and allowed him to
think. Getting impossible things was his business in life, and she had
confidence in him.
"I want to rent your entire house for a week," he announced to Uncle
Billy a few minutes later. It had occurred to him that the flood might
last longer than they anticipated.
Uncle Billy's eyes twinkled.
"I reckon it kin be did," he allowed. "I reckon a _ho_-tel man's got a
right to rent his hull house ary minute."
"Of course he has. How much do you want?"
Uncle Billy had made one mistake in not asking this sort of folks
enough, and he reflected in perplexity.
"Make me a offer," he proposed. "Ef it hain't enough I'll tell ye. You
want to rent th' hull place, back lot an' all?"
"No, just the mere house. That will be enough," answered the other
with a smile. He was on the point of offering a hundred dollars, when
he saw the little wrinkles about Mr. Tutt's eyes, and he said
seventy-five.
"Sho, ye're jokin'!" retorted Uncle Billy.
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