“And I s’pose ye don’t get down to yer store till abeout nine?”
“I usually go down to the office about that time.”
“An’ when do ye shut up?”
“Anywhere from half-past four to six.”
“An’ ye call that workin’ harder ’n ye did on the old stone hill farm, do ye?”
“Yes, a good deal harder. It’s true I used to get tired and go to bed some nights feeling as if every bone in my body ached, but I would go to sleep right away and forget it all, and next morning I’d be all ready for another day. Now I have to carry my load day and night, and there is no escape. I have hundreds, yes, thousands, of men dependent on me. When hard times come, and it sometimes seems to me that they come pretty often, I carry a good many of these men through just for the sake of their families, and when good times come they seem to forget all about it, and some of them are always ready to make trouble. There are times, Ethan, when it seems to me my load is heavier than I can bear. I almost never have a day off, and sometimes I long to return to the old farm, and am hungry for its peace and quiet.”
“I guess there ain’t nuthin’ to hinder ye from comin’ back if ye want to,” grunted Ethan. “The old place is for sale, an ’twon’t cost over twenty-five or thirty dollars an acre. Ye can stand that much, can’t ye? Yer boy here says he guesses ye’re worth more ’n five thousand dollars.”
Mr. Cope’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he glanced reprovingly at Jock; but evidently wishing to change the subject, he said, “I fancy, Ethan, that most of the boys and girls who used to go to school with us are gone now.”
“Pretty much.”