“Name ’em!” shouted the Major. “I challenge ye to mention one thing we haven’t right here in this flat.”
“Chickens!” said Beth, re-entering the room in time to hear this challenge. “How’s the baby, Patsy?”
“Growing like a weed, dear, and getting more lovely and cunning every second. Here—read the letter yourself.”
While Beth devoured the news from California Uncle John replied to the major.
“At El Cajon Ranch,” said he, “there’s a fine big house where the sunshine peeps in and floods the rooms every day in the year. Hear that blizzard howl outside, and think of the roses blooming this instant on the trellis of Louise’s window. Arthur has two automobiles and can get to town in twenty minutes. They’ve a long-distance telephone and I’ve talked with ’em over the line several times.”
“You have!” This in a surprised chorus.
“I have. Only last week I called Louise up.”
“An expensive amusement, John,” said the major grimly.
“Yes; but I figured I could afford it. I own some telephone stock, you know, so I may get part of that investment back. They have their own cows, and chickens—as Beth truly says—and any morning they can pick oranges and grapefruit from their own trees for breakfast.”
“I’d like to see that precious baby,” remarked Beth, laying the letter on her lap to glance pleadingly at her uncle.