The building of the factory was practically completed, though not all of its machinery had yet been installed. We had spent our money freely,—too freely, perhaps; and we were now ready to watch the returns. Polly said:—
"There are some things we are sure of: we like the country, and it likes us. I have spent the happiest year of my life here. We've entertained more friends than ever before, and they've been better entertained, so that we are all right from the social standpoint. You are stronger and better than ever before, and so am I. Credit the farm with these things, Mr. Headman, and you'll find that it doesn't owe us such an awful amount after all."
"Are these things worth $100,000?"
"Now, John, you don't mean that you've spent $100,000! What in the world have you done with it? Just pigs and cows and chickens—"
"And greenhouses and sunken gardens and pergolas and kickshaws," said I. "But seriously, Polly, I think that we can show value for all that we have spent; and the whole amount is not three times what our city house cost, and that only covered our heads."
"How do you figure values here?"
"We get a great deal more than simply shelter out of this place, and we have tangible values, too. Here are some of them: 480 acres of excellent land, so well groomed and planted that it is worth of any man's money, $120 per acre, or $57,600; buildings, water-plant, etc., all as good as new, $40,000; 44 cows, $4400; 10 heifers nearly two years old, $500; 8 horses, $1200; 50 brood sows, $1000; 350 young pigs, $1700; 1300 laying hens, $1300; tools and machinery, $1500; that makes well over $100,000 in sight, besides all the things you mentioned before."
"You haven't counted the six horses in my barn."
"They haven't been charged to the farm, Polly."
"Or the trees you've planted?"