The place contained about twenty acres, of which five in the rear were in oranges and one in pineapples. On the slope in front was a garden patch, while the low ground near the creek was a swamp.
“It is so much more than I expected,” exclaimed Mrs. Leighton at once, “that I almost wish we could keep it and live here.”
“Do you think we could afford it, mother?” Andy began. “I don’t think father will come down here.”
“What is it worth, Captain?” asked Mrs. Leighton.
“About two thousand dollars—maybe a little less.”
“Mother,” said Andy, “of course, we ought to clean up around here a little, but I don’t think we should spend any money on paint or repairs until father knows all about it. Let’s write to him.”
That meant perhaps a week’s reprieve. In that time considerable might be done on the projected flying machine.
“We’ll see,” answered his mother.
Mrs. Leighton and Andy entered the place with great curiosity. The front of the house was one living room of undecorated pine. There was a stove standing in a box of sand, and a long table, a couch, and bookshelves built in the end of the room. A chair at the table and a handmade lounging chair with a canvas back were the only seating accommodations.
The table bore a big green-shaded student lamp, and was laden with books, pamphlets, magazines—all in order in little racks—and, in the center, a heap of blank books, scratch paper pads, dry ink bottles, pens, tobacco jars, pipes, matches, and newspaper clippings. On the walls, here and there, were attractive colored prints.