“It would spoil it for hay, but factories are not bad in a place, I tell you. It might be a good thing to put one here.”
“Not for Mr Fleming. He don’t care for factories. He made the meadow out of the swamp, and nobody else has any business with it, whatever they may say about mortgages and things.”
“But who is talking about mortgages and things?” asked Clifton, laughing.
“Oh, most everybody in Gershom is talking. I don’t know much about it myself. And Jacob’s one of your folks, and you’d be mad if I told you all that folks say.”
Clifton laughed.
“Jacob isn’t any more one of my folks than you are—nor so much. Do you suppose I would stay away from meeting to come out here with Jacob? Not if I know it.”
“He wouldn’t want you to, I don’t suppose.”
“Not he. He doesn’t care half so much about me as you do.”
“No, he don’t. I think everything of you. And that’s why Aunt Betsey says you ought to be careful to set me a good example.”
“That’s so,” said Clifton, laughing. “Now tell me about old Fleming.”