Chapter Twenty Eight.
The Massacre at Findlayson’s Farm.
By the time Elsie and Rupert had returned from their wanderings winter was once more coming on; but already both the sister and brother had got a complexion.
The house was quite furnished now, guest room and all. It was indeed a mansion, though I would not like to say how much money it had cost Archie to make it so. However, he had determined, as he said himself to Bob, to do the thing properly while he was about it.
And there is no doubt he succeeded well. His garden too was all he had depicted it in his letter home.
That Archie had succeeded to his heart’s content in breaking ties with the old country was pretty evident, from a letter received by him from his father about mid-winter.
“He had noticed for quite a long time,” the Squire wrote, “and was getting more and more convinced, that this England was, agriculturally speaking, on its last legs. Even American inventions, and American skill and enterprise, had failed to do much for the lands of Burley. He had tried everything, but the ground failed to respond. Burley was a good place for an old retired man who loved to potter around after the partridges; but for one like himself, still in the prime of his life, it had lost its charms. Even Archie’s mother, he told him, did not see the advisability of throwing good money after bad, and Uncle Ramsay was of the same way of thinking. So he had made up his mind to let the place and come straight away out. He would allow Archie to look out for land for him, and by-and-bye he would come and take possession. Australia would henceforth reap the benefit of his genius and example; for he meant to show Australians a thing or two.”
When Archie read that letter, he came in with a rush to read it to Bob, Harry, and Sarah.