"Now, come, come, Mother," he remarked, "let us hear the price at any
rate. I am so curious."

"Well," said the Widow, "it is like this. I would like to get for it
what my brother paid for it, when he bought it at the death of my
father--it was to settle with the rest of the heirs--we were eight
then. They are all dead but me. But no, no one will ever pay that
price, so I may as well let it go to my niece. She is the last. She
doesn't need it. She has land enough. The cultivator has a hard time
these days. It is as much as I can do to make the old place feed me
and pay the taxes, and I am getting old. But no one will ever pay the
price, and what will my brother think of me when the _bon Dieu_ calls
me, if I sell it for less than he paid? As for that, I don't know what
he'll say to me for selling it at all. But I am getting old to live
here alone--all alone. But no one will ever pay the price. So I may as
well die here, and then my brother can't blame me. But it is lonely
now, and I am growing too old. Besides, I don't suppose _you_ want to
buy it. What would a gentleman do with this?"

"Well," said the Doctor, "I don't really know what a _gentleman
would_ do with it," and he added, under his breath, in English, "but I
know mighty well what this fellow _could_ do with it, if he could get
it," and he lighted a fresh cigarette.

The keen old eyes had watched his face.

"I don't suppose _you_ want to buy it?" she persisted.

"Well," responded the Doctor, "how can a poor man like me say, if you