“Well,” Ned Rutherford was saying, “I wouldn’t have thought it, but I’ve got so attached to this place out here, I’d like an excuse of some sort,––some kind of business, you know,––that would bring me here part of the time; what do you think, Mort?”
“I think our associations here have had a great deal to do with the attractions of the place, but as a quiet retreat in which to spend a few weeks of each summer, I can not imagine a more delightful place.”
“Everard, of what are you thinking so deeply?” demanded Lyle, watching his thoughtful face, “you have not spoken a word since you came out.”
“I am thinking of the evening when first we had Mr. Lindlay and Mr. Van Dorn as guests in this house; thinking of the contrast between then and now; that was ushering in the close of the old regime, and this is the eve of the new.”
“When will the mines be reopened?” inquired Van Dorn.
“Just as soon as possible after the rebuilding of the plant, next spring.”
“All these mines will be owned and controlled by the New York company, will they not?”
“Yes, and they will probably purchase other good properties.”
“’Pon my soul, but that will make a fine plant, out ’ere!” exclaimed Lindlay.
“I should say so,” responded Van Dorn.