"Steve's a bright business-man. John's long-headed, if he isn't quite so brilliant. Ben will be all for books and travel. And Jim—well, it's odd, but there won't be a farmer among them."
"No," returned their mother, not knowing whether to be glad or sorry.
"Then farming is changing. And the near-by places are turning into towns. What the next half of the century will bring—"
Since there was no prospect of the homestead, they allowed themselves to be persuaded to join the migration. Foreigners were crowding them a little. There was a finer, freer air up-town.
The Deans suited themselves, and Mr. Reed and Charles went with them. Charles was now a tall, fair young fellow, rather grave from the shock of the loss of his mother, intensified perhaps by his sympathy with Mrs. Dean and Josie. It was a great comfort to keep together.
John looked up a new home; but Cleanthe, with her arms around Mrs. Underhill's neck, said, in a broken sort of tone:—
"Oh, you must be somewhere near us! I don't feel as if I could live, if I did not see you every day. I have no mother but you."
Twentieth Street seemed a long way up, to be sure. But there was an odd, rather oldish house, with a two-story ell that seemed to have been added as an after-thought. There was a stable and quite a garden. It had been considered rather a country house in its inception.
Joe insisted that it was just the thing. He could have an office and a library, and a sleeping-room overhead, without disturbing the family.
Mrs. Underhill declared there was twice too much room; and if any of the other boys should marry and go away—