Mr. Page had recovered from his stroke: but he would never be good for anything again. He was very much changed; would sit for hours and never speak: at times his daughters thought him a little silly, as if his intellect were failing. Miss Page, with John Drench’s help, managed the farm: though she always made it a point of duty to consult her father and ask for his orders. In the month of June they heard again from Mr. Marcus Allen. He wrote to say that he was sorry not to fulfil his promise (made in the winter’s visit) of coming to stay with them during the time of hay-making, but he was busy finishing a painting and could not leave it: he hoped to come at some other time. And this was now December.
Susan Page worked on: John Drench looked out of the window. The young lady was determined not to break the silence.
“The Dunn Farm is to let,” said he suddenly.
“Is it?” slightingly returned Miss Susan.
“My father has some thoughts of taking it for me. It’s good land.”
“No better than other land about here.”
“It’s very good, Susan. And just the place I should like. There’s an excellent house too, on it.”
Susan Page began rummaging in the deep drawer of the work-table for her box of buttons. She had a great mind to hum a tune.
“But I couldn’t take it, or let father take it for me, unless you’d promise to go to it with me, Susan.”
“Promise to go to it with you, John Drench!”