"If these are virtues, they're strictly negative ones," Flora pointed out.
"I'm clearing the ground," said Edgar. "Where we shine is in making the most of material things, turning, for example, these wilds into wheatfields, holding on through your Arctic cold and blazing summer heat. We begin with a tent and an ox-team, and end, in spite of countless obstacles, with a big brick homestead and a railroad or an automobile. Men of the Lansing type follow the same course consistently, even when their interests are not concerned. Once get an idea into their minds, convince them that it's right, and they'll transform it into determined action. If they haven't tools, they'll make them or find something that will serve; effort counts for nothing; the purpose will be carried out."
Flora noticed the enthusiastic appreciation of his comrade which his somewhat humorous speech revealed, and she thought it justified.
"One would imagine Mr. Lansing to be resolute," she said. "I dare say it's fortunate; he had a heavy loss to face last year."
"Yes," returned Edgar. "As you see, he's going on; though he never expected anything for himself."
"He never expected anything?" Flora repeated incredulously. "What are you saying?"
Edgar realized that he had been injudicious. Flora did not know that Sylvia Marston was still the owner of the farm and he hesitated to enlighten her.
"Well," he said, "George isn't greedy; it isn't in his nature."
"Do you mean that he's a rich man and is merely farming for amusement?"
"Oh, no," said Edgar; "far from it!" He indicated the miry wagons and the torn-up trails. "You wouldn't expect a man to do this kind of thing, if it wasn't needful. The fact is, I don't always express myself very happily; and George has told me that I talk too much."