“I want a summer home in this locality. You don’t happen to know of a good old treasure of a homestead for sale, do you?”
“I do not,” replied the lawyer. “There’s a place on the edge of the village that would be just the ticket, but I don’t suppose it could be bought for love nor money.”
“Where is it?” asked the man eagerly. “You never know what money can do-- to say nothing of love--till you try.”
The lawyer chuckled softly.
“It’s the Hapgood place. I’ll drive you over to-morrow. It’s owned by two old maids, and they worship every stick and stone and blade of grass that belongs to it. However, I happen to know that cash is rather scarce with them--and there’s ample chance for love, if the money fails,” he added, with a twitching of his lips.
When the two men drove into the yard that August morning, the Hapgood twins were picking nasturtiums, and the flaming yellows and scarlets lighted up their somber gowns, and made patches of brilliant color against the gray of the house.
“By Jove, it’s a picture!” exclaimed the would-be purchaser.
The lawyer smiled and sprang to the ground. Introductions swiftly followed, then he cleared his throat in some embarrassment.
“Ahem! I’ve brought Mr. Hazelton up here, ladies, because he was interested in your beautiful place.”
Miss Rachel smiled--the smile of proud possession; then something within her seemed to tighten, and she caught her breath sharply.