“Schools?” exclaimed Mr. Sleighter. “There's a real good school not more than a couple of miles away.”
“Two miles,” exclaimed the mother aghast.
“Oh, that's nothin'. They ride, of course. But we ain't got much of a master now. He's rather—you know.” Mr. Sleighter significantly tipped up with his little finger and winked toward Mr. Gwynne.
“But you love that country,” she said.
“Yes, I love it and I hated to leave it. But the missis never liked it. She was city born and bred. She wanted the lights, I guess, and the shows. I don't blame her, though,” he continued rapidly. “It's kind of lonely for women, you know. They've got to have amusements and things. But it's God's own country, believe me, and I would go back to-morrow, if I could.”
“You still own your ranch?”
“Yes; can't sell easily. You see there's not much broke on it—only a hundred acres or so.”
“Why, how big is the ranch?”
“Five hundred acres and a wood lot. I did not farm much, though—mostly cattle and horses. I was away a good deal on the trail.”
“The trail?”