"Well, well, my boy, what do you think of it all? How do you think the garden looks?"
"Wonderful!"
"Wonderful, yes, that old Markabee's a treasure; you won't part with him, Allan?"
"Nothing would induce me to, father. I hope he'll stay here another twenty years at least!"
"That'll make him a hundred and two, the old man is very proud of his age, eighty something!"
"Eighty-two and seems a mere boy!" Allan went to his father and put his arms about the old man's shoulders.
"I—I'm not going to try and thank you!" he said.
"Don't, there's nothing to thank me for! I—I did it—I enjoyed doing it, never enjoyed anything so much in my life, put myself into it heart and soul. I'd like Cutler, you know Cutler, his daughter married the Governor of somewhere or other—I'd like him to see this place!"
"Then why not?"
"Bless me—so I may—one day—I might bring him down, but, Allan, I'm not going to interfere with you, not me! Two's company, three's none! I know that! And—good morning, my dear, and I don't need to ask how you slept! As fresh as a rose you look this morning, as fresh and as handsome too!"