“Then if that is not so, what is the attraction to the city, Dick?” laughed Anna.
“Nothing at all. You know that as well as I do.” Anna did know it, but for all that she answered maliciously:
“Then I can’t think why you wish to leave us.”
“I don’t wish to leave you. I would much rather stay. I have been here so long, I might well suppose that I had worn out my welcome. But as you and uncle are kind enough to tell me that I have not, I will stay, and ‘thank you too,’ as the girl said to the boy that asked her to have him.”
“And don’t take it into your head again, Dick, that you are wearing out your welcome. When we get tired of you, Dick, I will take it upon myself to send you about your business.”
“Very well, Anna. I hope you will do so.”
In truth, Dick had enough to keep him in the neighborhood. Hammond House and Hammondville, forming the greater portion of the landed estate he had recently inherited, lay within a few miles of Old Lyon Hall.
The whole place was now in charge of a resident bailiff who was instructed to put it in thorough repair for the reception of its new master. And these repairs were going on as fast as circumstances would permit.
The outdoor work was of course frequently suspended during the inclemency of the weather. But the house was filled with carpenters, plasterers, painters and paperhangers.
And it was well that Dick should occasionally ride there to overlook these workmen. The most careful instructions are not often carried out, under these circumstances, without the frequent presence of the master.