"I don't believe," said Charlie.

"What you would _take_ for it!" cried the planter.

"Wait for w'at?"

"What you would _take_ for the whole block?"

"I don't want to sell him!"

"I'll give you _ten thousand dollah_ for it."

"Ten t'ousand dollah for dis house? Oh, no, dat is no price. He is blame
good old house,--dat old house." (Old Charlie and the Colonel never
swore in presence of each other.) "Forty years dat old house didn't had
to be paint! I easy can get fifty t'ousand dollah for dat old house."

"Fifty thousand picayunes; yes," said the Colonel.

"She's a good house. Can make plenty money," pursued the deaf man.

"That's what make you so rich, eh, Charlie?"

"_Non_, I don't make nothing. Too blame clever, me, dat's de troub'.
She's a good house,--make money fast like a steamboat,--make a barrel
full in a week! Me, I lose money all de days. Too blame clever."

"Charlie!"

"Eh?"