"No, but why should it? We get all the fun of it extra. I suppose you may say Dad pays for that. It returns enough to run itself, though. I suppose you and Uncle Jimmy see to that."
"Oh, yes. It keeps us going, too. And everything is run as it ought to be. All the farms are let, and everybody is contented,—or ought to be. Everybody is getting a living, anyhow, out of the land."
"I love to think of people getting a living out of the land."
His eyes shone as he turned his face quickly to her. "Do you feel like that about it, too?" he asked. "So do I. It fills me with pleasure. I like to think of everything that's growing on the land, and every little thing that's done to make it grow, and the men who do it all; and some of them get so wise, always living and working on it, that you would never learn all they know if you read about it till the end of your life."
"I talked to old Bull once while he was laying a fence," she said. "He was proud to let me see how cleverly he was doing it, and that it wasn't so easy as it looked. He has been hedging and ditching all his life, and he enjoys it as much as anything he could do."
"Yes, I know. That's the sort of work a man can enjoy, with his hands. You're helping nature, and if you learn the ways of nature she helps you. There's never any monotony in nature. She's alive."
"When you see people like that, you're apt to be ashamed of yourself for all the things you want to make you contented. Old Bull has brought up a large family on less than half of what I have for a dress allowance. His dear old wife,—I know her too—gets the most out of every penny that he gives her, and he has all he wants at home. There's no anxiety about life when you've been trained to do without things and not to want them."
"No, you get your satisfaction out of the things you have, and they are much bigger than the things you do without."
"They have enough to eat and drink, and good clothes to wear. They have their family interests, and their friends. They see people they know, and have known all their lives, more easily than people like us do. They hardly ever move out of their village, but the little changes of life from day to day and from week to week, with their work, and their times of leisure, are enough for them."
He smiled at her. "It's an idyllic picture," he said. "There are people who will tell you that you won't keep them on the land except by bringing the pleasures of the town to them."