This was so undeniable a statement that Sylvia changed the subject abruptly.
"There is no earthly need of your working so hard, and you know it."
"But Sylvia, I like to work; and I'm awfully anxious to make a success of things, now that we've got such a wonderful start at last."
"Are you more interested in this stupid old farm than you are in me?"
"Why, Sylvia, it isn't a 'stupid old farm' to me! It's the place my great-grandfather built, and that all the Grays have lived in and loved for four generations! I thought you liked it, too."
"I do, but I'm jealous of it."
"You ought not to be. You know that there's nothing in the world so dear to me as you are."
"Then let me pay for another hired man, so that you'll have more time for yourself—and for me."
"Indeed, I will not. You'll never pay for another thing on this farm if I can help it. No one could be more grateful than I am for all you've done, but the time is over for that."
"Won't you come in?" she asked, as, they reached her garden, and she noticed that he stopped at the gate.