"It's the turn of Peter," she said, "and we go down in August."
"To think of Owley Cot!" murmured Jane. "Too good to be true in my opinion. Its little windows catch the morning light, and the chimney's covered with ivy. Great fir trees with red stems grow over it and there's an upping-stock for horsemen outside the gate."
"You won't know it for roses now," answered Margery. "Poor dear Mercy Marydrew—her heart used to sink when I came along with some new flowers dug up from here. She was all for tidiness, and I do think flowers gave her more pain than pleasure."
"I like them and I'll tend them well," promised Jane.
Her sister-in-law, regarding her with side glances, perceived that she was possessed of childish charm. She was a pleading sort of girl—just the type sure to win Jeremy's affections.
"My own impression is that it's going to mean big money from the first," said the future huckster. "I'm itching to be at it; and I'm very hopeful it may be possible to secure some of Miss Marydrew's furniture, so we can go into Owley Cot as soon as Jacob likes. Father would help there."
"And we shan't fear to rough it neither," continued Jane. "We've said to each other, scores of times, that we don't mind how hard life is, so we share it together."
"Not hard for you, however," promised Jeremy. "I'm the one to bear the battle and come between you and everything. That's what I'm here for."
Then they went to look at the kennels.
The family reassembled at tea, and Jacob, who had spent an hour with Mr. Marydrew, declared that he was bearing up exceedingly well.