"Great heavens! Look at this cotton!" he ejaculated. His father
approached. The cotton lay in silken handfuls, clean and shimmering,
with threads full two inches long. The idlers, black and white,
clustered round, gazing at it, and fingering it with repeated
exclamations of astonishment.

"Where did this come from?" asked the Colonel sharply. He and Harry were
both eying the girl intently.

"I raised it in the swamp," Zora replied quietly, in a dead voice. There
was no pride of achievement in her manner, no gladness; all that had
flown.

"Is that all?"

"No, sir; I think there's two bales."

"Two bales! Where is it? How the devil--" The Colonel was forgetting his
guests, but Harry intervened.

"You'll need to get it picked right off," he suggested.

"It's all picked, sir."

"But where is it?"

"If you'll send a wagon, sir--"

But the Colonel hardly waited.