"I reckon we're kind o' old for this country," said the Deacon. "It don't seem to me's I feel quite so fust-rate's I did at home. Trees gets too old to transplant after a while."
"That's so! that's so!" exclaimed Billy. "I've never yet seen the fust time, old folks adoin' well here. The air's too bracin' for 'em. They can't get used to it,—no offence to you, sir,"—looking at Deacon Plummer.
"Oh, no offence,—no offence at all," replied the Deacon. "I don't make any bones about ownin' that I'm old. Me 'n' my wife's both seen our best days; 'n' I reckon we're best off at home. I think we'd better go, Parson. We're mighty sorry to leave you; but when you move south, we'll start the other way towards home. Ain't that so, Elizy?" Mrs. Plummer had been rocking violently for the last few minutes, with her face buried in her handkerchief.
"Yes," she sobbed, "I expect so. It's just providential, the hull on't."
"Dear Mrs. Plummer, do not cry so!" exclaimed Mrs. March. "We have had a very pleasant time. It is only a few months; and when you get home, it will only seem as if you had taken a six months' journey. I really think you will be better in Mayfield than here."
"Oh, I've no doubt on't," said Mrs. Plummer, still crying in her handkerchief; "but I thought we was a goin' to live with you all the rest o' our lives. It's a awful disappointment to me. But it's all providential. It's a comfort to know that."
When Zeb heard the news that the family would break up in a few days,—the Marches to move to Wet Mountain Valley, and the Plummers to go back to Massachusetts,—he was very sorry. He turned on his heel without saying a word, and went into the barn.
"Just your luck, Abe Mack!" he said, under his breath; "you don't no sooner get used to a place 'n' to folks, 'n' feel real contented, than somethin' happens to tip ye out. Ye're born onlucky; I reckon there's no use fightin'. They're so took up with this long-legged spindle of a mule-driver I expect they won't want me; 'n' I don't want to go down into no minin' country, nuther,—'taint safe. I'll see if the old man won't take me back to the States. I've got enough to pay my way, if he'll give me work after I get there, and I reckon I'd be safe from any o' them Georgetown fellers in Massachusetts."
The Deacon was very glad to take Zeb back with him. He had learned to like the man, and he needed such a hand on his farm.
And so it was all settled, and everybody went to work as hard as possible to get ready for the move. Nelly and Rob hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry. They loved the hills so much, they were afraid they would not love the valley so well. Yet their heads were nearly turned by Long Billy's stories of the wonderful mines in Rosita; of the machinery in the stamp-mill where they crushed the ore and got the silver out; of the delicious wild grapes on Grape Creek; and the trout, and the flowers on the hills.