“Who would give old Jerry Barnaby a job as a farm boss, especially when he could not get a recommend from the Baldwins? Don’t try to fool a poor old man. It’s cruel, and besides it isn’t like you, either, John Wycliff.� And Uncle Jerry looked reproachfully at the younger man.
“It’s no fooling, Uncle Jerry,� said Wycliff rising, and placing his hands on Barnaby’s shoulders. “Do you know the Twin Mountain Farm?�
“Every rod of it.�
“Now, if you are not too steep with your price, you can take charge of that farm. You will have your fuel, vegetables, meat, maple sugar—indeed, most of your living off the farm. You will not need a very big cash salary, along with your rent, to take care of you and your family in good shape, and your wife and daughter will have a horse to drive whenever they wish.�
“Who owns the place?� asked Barnaby.
“A one-eyed crank named Wycliff.�
“Do you own that place? Well, we shan’t have any trouble about the price, if you think I can fill the bill.�
“Yes, yes, Uncle Jerry. Come around in the morning and we will make a bargain in five minutes. Then we will drive off and buy stock and tools.�
“Very well. I must get home and tell Pet and her mother. We are willing to shake the dust of Papyrus off our feet any day.�