"I suppose I shall wake up some morning—perhaps to-morrow morning—to realize that it's quite large and important," she said. "But at present it seems the smallest thing, because all that really counts is that Garth is safe. Tell me all about it, Tom."
"Metcalfe won't answer for him if we keep him in town," he said. "If we take him right into the country for a few years he will grow into a strong boy. Therefore, as the Americans say, it's country for ours."
"Of course. What will happen?"
"We'll sell or let this place," he said, watching her face keenly for some sign that the blow was telling. But there was no change in its eager interest, and he went on.
"I must send in my resignation at the office. They'll be nice about it, of course: probably they'd always try to find a berth for me, though it would not be as good as this one. That will leave us with the little bit of private income we have and whatever we get out of the house. We might live on that, after a fashion. But if we've got to go into the country, I'd rather see if we can't make something out of the land."
"But we don't know anything about it."
"Not a thing," Macleod agreed. "But I don't believe it's so awfully complicated: surely a man of reasonable common sense can learn. And look at the alternative—living in some beastly cottage in a township, with not a thing to do. I don't think I could stand it."
"I'm sure I couldn't," said his wife. "Of course you'll learn—look at all the stupid people who do well out of land. Quite stupid people: and your worst enemy can't say you haven't got brains, Tom!"
"I make you my best bow," said her husband solemnly. "You're very encouraging, ma'am! I'll try to live up to your high estimate of me. But what seems to matter more is that I think I've got enough muscle."
For the first time a shadow of doubt came into her eyes.