stock to be disposed of, and rents to be collected, I shall go crazy; I know I shall. I must have an agent."
"What for, then, would you have an agent?" said the dame, in a loud key, scowling meanwhile over the black rims of her spectacles. "To cheat you out of every thing, and grow rich on your money, hey?"
"No, Aunt; some good, reliable man———"
"Good, reliable fiddlestick, Getty!"
"I say no, Aunt."
"I say yes, child. He will charge you half for taking care of your property; and he'll run away with the rest. Don't talk to me about agents."
Getty had never divested herself of the dread with which, from childhood, she had regarded her scolding relative, and so, without fully resolving either to carry or yield the point, she sought to escape further altercation, at present, by not pressing it.
"But these repairs, aunt," she said, "which are so much needed for these poor men?"
"It is no such thing! There are no repairs wanted. Why, one would think the houses and fences had all tumbled down the moment poor Baltus was gone. It is no such thing, I say. They are well enough. I have been in every house on the estate within a fortnight, and they are well enough."
"But Mr. Jones, who has eight children, can 't make his rent out of the farm."
"Let him give it up, then, to some one who can What business has he with so many children?"
"And Mr. Smith has lost one of his best oxen."
"He must take better care of his oxen, then. He need not expect us to pay him for it; I can tell him that."
"But I gave him ten dollars, at all events," replied Getty, not without alarm.
"Ten dollars, child! Well now, did ever any body hear the like of that? Ten dollars to that idle, whimpering fellow! Why, Getty, you will be in the poor-house in a year, if that is the way you are going on; that you will. Ten dollars!"
