“That's what I came about, Cousin Jule—the old place. You may think it's queer, for I never lived there but two years once, when father and your Uncle Joe farmed it on shares; but those two years just made it home to me. Of course Uncle Joe wasn't any real relation of mine, and you-all weren't my real cousins, but it was the only family I ever had, so to say, and I loved every one of you. Then we moved back into town; but you know I came in every week or so, and Aunt Martha used to have my room in the attic ready for me, just the same.”
“Yes, I know; Aunt Martha never forgot you, Cousin Lorando.”
“Well, it's fifteen years since I saw the old place, and a lot's happened since then, I tell you. First place, I'm a rich man, Cousin Jule.
“Oh, I don't mean one of these multi-millionaires you have about here, for I haven't even seven figures opposite my name; but short of that I did very well for myself out West there, and I earned it all fair, too—though I was pretty lucky, and that counts.
“Anyhow, never mind about that. Only I've got enough to have anything I want, and to give my friends something, too. So as soon as I got back. East I went straight down to the farm. But it was all shut up and a kind of green hedge where the fence used to be, and I judged it was sold, and I felt pretty sore about it, so I came right away.”
“They only come there in June,” Miss Trueman explained, “and they go back before Thanksgiving.”
“Yes. Well, I didn't know that.”
He waited again for a few seconds, and Miss Trueman sat in respectful silence till he should continue.
“You see, I'd been East once before, eight years ago, but I didn't see the farm then,” he said finally.
“I got married while I was West.”