"Be you folks ready to start?" inquired Deacon Brewer. "Purty nice view of the water from here, ain't they? There's a good well on the place, too, and a few boat-loads of manure would give you crops to beat—all. Don't know enybody thet wants to speckalate a little in farmin' land, do ye? This here is a good, likely place. Reckon you kin buy it cheap."
"Sh-h!" said McAllister, laying his finger on his lips.
"No one sha'n't ever buy this farm," said Abby; "I'm goin' to live here always."
"Wall," said the Deacon, "better be movin'. I don't like to keep the mare standin' in the sun."
"Are you goin' away?" cried Abby in agonized tones. "You'll come back soon, won't you?"
"I hope so, very soon," said McAllister. "Don't you want to show me the boy-horse before I start?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" she cried, seizing his hand.
The stout clubman and the little girl walked slowly across the grass-grown drive to the daisy field beside the barn, talking busily.
"Your friend's bought this farm," announced Miss Abby to Wilkins.
"'Oly Moses!" ejaculated the valet.