Meanwhile the men above-stairs lingered in the Colonel's office--the older one perturbed and sputtering, the younger insistent and imperturbable.
"The fact is, father," he was saying, "as you yourself have said, one bad crop of cotton would almost ruin us."
"But the prospects are good."
"What are prospects in March? No, father, this is the situation--three good crops in succession will wipe off our indebtedness and leave us facing only low prices and a scarcity of niggers; on the other hand--" The father interrupted impatiently.
"Yes, on the other hand, if we plunge deeper in debt and betray our friends we may come out millionaires or--paupers."
"Precisely," said Harry Cresswell, calmly. "Now, our plan is to take no chances; I propose going North and looking into this matter thoroughly. If he represents money and has money, and if the trust has really got the grip he says it has, why, it's a case of crush or get crushed, and we'll have to join them on their own terms. If he's bluffing, or the thing looks weak, we'll wait."
It all ended as matters usually did end, in Harry's having his way. He came downstairs, expecting, indeed, rather hoping, to find Taylor impatiently striding to and fro, watch in hand; but here he was, ungainly, it might be, but quite docile, drawing the picture of a power-loom for Miss Cresswell, who seemed really interested. Harry silently surveyed them from the door, and his face lighted with a new thought.
Taylor, espying him, leapt to his feet and hauled out his watch.
"Well--I--" he began lamely.
"No, you weren't either," interrupted Harry, with a laugh that was unmistakably cordial and friendly. "You had quite forgotten what you were waiting for--isn't that so, Sis?"
Helen regarded her brother through her veiling lashes: what meant this sudden assumption of warmth and amiability?
"No, indeed; he was raging with impatience," she returned.
"Why, Miss Cresswell, I--I--" John Taylor forsook social amenities and pulled himself together. "Well," shortly, "now for that talk--ready?" And quite forgetting Miss Cresswell, he bolted into the parlor.
"The decision we have come to is this," said Harry Cresswell. "We are in debt, as you know."
"Forty-nine thousand, seven hundred and forty-two dollars and twelve cents," responded Taylor; "in three notes, due in twelve, twenty-four, and thirty-six months, interest at eight per cent, held by--"
The Colonel snorted his amazement, and Harry Cresswell cut in: "Yes," he calmly admitted; "and with good crops for three years we'd be all right; good crops even for two years would leave us fairly well off."
"You mean it would relieve you of the present stringency and put you face to face with the falling price of cotton and rising wages," was John Taylor's dry addendum.