Sally Dows by Bret Harte
page 186 of 203 (91%)
page 186 of 203 (91%)
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down on his elder brother.
"Then, as far as I can see," he said quietly, "you have made ducks and drakes of your share of the property, and that virtually you are in the hands of this man Gunn and his father." "You're putting it too strongly," said Gabriel deprecatingly. "In the first place, my investments with Gunn's firm are by no means failures, and they only hold as security a mortgage on the forest land below the hill. It's scarcely worth the money. I would have sold it long ago, but it had been a fancy of father's to keep it wild land for the sake of old times and the healthiness of the town." "There used to be a log cabin there, where the old man had a habit of camping out whenever he felt cramped by civilization up here, wasn't there?" said Uncle Sylvester meditatively. "Yes," said Gabriel impatiently; "it's still there--but to return to Mr. Gunn. He has taken a fancy to Kitty, and even if I could not lift the mortgage, there's some possibility that the land would still remain in the family." "I think I'll drive over this afternoon and take a look at the old shanty if this infernal weather lets up." "Yes; but just now, my dear Sylvester, let us attend to business. I want to show you those investments." "Oh, certainly; trot 'em out," said his brother, plucking up a simulation of interest as he took a seat at the table. |
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