After a tour of the wooden buildings he arrives at the farm-yard, and steps on to the mounting-block to take a general view, and at the same moment Mona comes to the door of her dairy.
He is an American, a cheerful and rather free-spoken person, and he says, with a smile on his lips, by way of excuse for opening a conversation:
“I guess the farm-house is not for sale, is it?”
“You must ask the landlord about that, sir,” says Mona.
“Not you also? You’re the tenant of the farm, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m leaving it presently.”
“Ah, I remember! I’ve heard something about you. And where are you going to when you leave here?”
“I don’t know yet, sir.”
He looks at her as if measuring her from head to foot, and then says, with another smile:
“Come to my country, girlie. We have some strapping young women out west, but we can do with a few more of the same sort, I guess.”