What news there was to be given out the eldest brother dispensed to the family circle, after Alvira had cleared away the “tea-things.”
That domestic had a clear idea of making one in the circle, and, hastening in from the kitchen without her apron, drew up a chair to sit with the others, and enjoy the revelations which, from Albert’s manner during supper, all felt to be impending. But the invasion of city manners, which she and Milton had deplored and ridiculed for a fortnight back, had an unsuspected bitterness in its train for her. The lawyer looked at her coolly, as he struck a match on the under side of the mantel-piece, and asked: “Hadn’t you better go out, Alvira, and see that the chickens don’t get into the kitchen?”—and she flounced out again, with nose in air, and black eyes flashing.
Albert lighted his cigar, put an arm chair down near the old rocker in which his father sat and took his seat. Near the open door, overlooking the farmyard and the barns, and full in the light from the west, sat Miss Sabrina, knitting, and Isabel, with a paper. At the latter’s feet, on a hassock, was Annie, and Seth sat on the doorstep.
“Father,” said Albert, “things have been arranged in New York so that I can speak, now, about the plans which I hinted of ten days ago.”
The old man nodded his head, and said plaintively, “Whatever yew think best, Albert, s’long as the boys git a fair shaow.”
“You needn’t worry about that. My business is settled now, I think, so that I can live here six or eight months in the year, say from March till October, running down occasionally, perhaps, but making this my residence. I will take up all the mortgages—perhaps buy back some of the old farm, may be all of it. There are three or four ways in which this can be equitably arranged—we’ll talk of those in detail later on, some day when John can come up. I will have the carpenters here in a few days, to look over the house, and figure on putting it in first-class repair. The barns will have to be new throughout. There must be new machinery, new fences, and a pretty thorough weeding out of the cattle. We shall want a carriage house—but then its no use of enumerating, there is so much to be done. We will put some money into horseflesh down on Long Island, and see if something can’t be done in the way of a stock-farm. I’m thinking of a trout pond, up beyond the orchard, in the ravine there, too.”
“Oh, Albert, this is what I’ve be’n prayin’ for this thirty year!” It was Sabrina who spoke. There were tears of joy in her eyes.
Lemuel Fairchild seemed rather dazed, not to say dismayed, at the prospect thus bewilderingly unfolded. “It’ll cost a heap o’ money, Albert,” he said at last, rather dubiously, “an’ I dunnao’ ’baout yer gittin’ it back agin.”
“That will be my look out,” said the lawyer, confidently. “At any rate, Isabel and I will make a good home for you and Aunt Sabrina, as long as you both live. It will be a pleasant change for us both. As for Seth—”
There was a pause, and Annie nestled closer to Isabel, with a soft “Oh yes, about Seth.”