Morey, with as little ado as if he
were buying a pair of shoes, said, "Very well. I will take them."
Drawing out his pocketbook, he handed the old Squire ten new
fifty-dollar bills and asked whether we could conveniently drive the
sheep over to his farm on the following day. In fact, before the old
Squire had more than counted the money, Mr. Morey had said good-day and
had driven off.
Just what grandmother Ruth said when the old gentleman went in to put
the bills away in his desk, we boys never knew; but for a long time
thereafter the sale of the sheep was a sore subject at the old farm.
The transaction was not yet complete, however, for we still had to
deliver the sheep to their new owner. At six o'clock the following
morning Halstead, Addison and I set out to drive them to Lovell. The old
Squire had been up since three o'clock, feeding the flock with hay and
provender for the drive; he told us that he would follow later in the
day with a team to bring us home after our long walk. The girls put us
up luncheons in little packages, which we stowed in our pockets.
It was still dark when we started. The previous day had been clear, but
the sky had clouded during the night.
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