"You must not think us over-shiftless," she said, "for living in the old house so long; we've talked of building every year, but somehow the right time hasn't come yet; besides, my old man don't exactly like to tear the old house down."
"Tear it down!" cried Jacob, with a degree of feeling that surprised the worthy couple—"tear the old homestead down! don't do it—don't do it, friend. There are people in the world who would give a piece of gold for every shingle on the roof rather than see a beam loosened."
"I guess you must have been in this neighborhood afore this," said the farmer, looking at his wife with shrewd surprise; "know something about the old homestead, I shouldn't wonder!"
"Yes, I passed through here many years ago; a man at that time, older than you are now, lived on the place; his name was—let me think——"
"Wilcox—was that the name?"
"Yes, that was it—a tall man, with dark eyes."
"That's the man, poor old fellow; why we bought the farm of him."
"I wonder he ever brought himself to part with it! His wife seemed so fond of the place, and—and his daughter: he had a daughter, if I recollect right?"
"Yes, we heard so; I never saw her; but the folks around here talk about her wild, bright ways, and her good looks, to this day; a harnsome, smart gal she was if what they say can be relied on."
"But what became of her? Did she settle anywhere in these parts?"