window on their way to the hitching-place. In front of the court-house, in the shade, were half-a-dozen carts loaded with bales of cotton, and the owners with samples in hand were making the round of the buyers. The sidewalks were thronged with negroes, and the gay medley of the voices came through the open window. [143] A set of shelves occupied the end of the room beside the door and were filled to overflowing with yellow law books. The mantel was crowded with filing cases and a few tin boxes. Beside the front window a small, old-fashioned safe held more books. Besides these there was only the plain oak desk, two chairs and the aforementioned cupboard to be seen, if one excepts[144] the wall decorations in the shape of colored advertisements and calendars and a box filled with sawdust beside the arm-chair. The Major had tucked a greenish and very damp cigar in the corner of his mouth, and Winthrop soon discovered the necessity for the box. [144] Presently the new rental agreement was signed and the Major, after several abortive attempts, flung open the door of the safe and put it carefully away in one of the compartments. Then he took up his broad-brimmed black felt hat and reached for his cane. PRESENTLY THE NEW RENTAL AGREEMENT WAS SIGNED “And now, Mr. Winthrop,” he said, “we’ll just take a walk around the town, sir; I’d like you to meet some of our citizens, sir.” Winthrop good-naturedly acquiesced and preceded the Major down the stairs. During the next hour-and-a-half Winthrop was impressively introduced to and warmly welcomed by some two dozen of Corunna’s foremost citizens, from ’Squire Parish, whom they discovered buying a bale of[145] cotton in the dim recess of his hardware store, to Mr. “Cad” Wilson, who wiped his hand on a towel before reaching it across the bar to add his welcome. [145] “Not one of the aristocracy,” explained the Major, as they took their way out after drinking Winthrop’s health in Bourbon, “but a gentleman at heart, sir, in spite of his business, sir. When in need of liquid refreshment, Mr. Winthrop, you will find his place the best in town, sir, and you may always depend on receiving courteous treatment.” The post-office, toward which they bent their steps after breasting Mr. “Cad” Wilson’s swinging doors, proved to be a veritable stamping-ground
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