'Yes, but they are so far away,' I said, 'you leave home to study and I am to be four years in college-possibly I can finish in three.'
'Perfectly terrible!' she said, and then she added the favourite phrase and tone of her mother: 'We must be patient.'
'I am very sorry of one thing,' I said. 'What's that?'
'I promised not to ask you for one more kiss.'
'Well then,' said she, 'you—you—needn't ask me.' And in a moment I helped her out at the door.
Chapter 25
David Brower had prospered, as I have said before, and now he was chiefly concerned in the welfare of his children. So, that he might give us the advantages of the town, he decided either to lease or sell his farm—by far the handsomest property in the township. I was there when a buyer came, in the last days of that summer. We took him over the smooth acres from Lone Pine to Woody Ledge, from the top of Bowman's Hill to Tinkie Brook in the far valley. He went with us through every tidy room of the house. He looked over the stock and the stables.
'Wall! what's it wuth?' he said, at last, as we stood looking down the fair green acres sloping to the sugar bush.
David picked up a stick, opened his knife, and began to whittle thoughtfully, a familiar squint of reflection in his face. I suppose he thought of all it had cost him—the toil of many years, the strength of his young manhood, the youth and beauty of his wife, a hundred things that were far better than money.