"Railroad fifty miles away; boat every once in a while," said I sarcastically.
"Accessible in two hundred years, all right," insisted Dick serenely. "Even Canada can build a quarter of a mile of railway a year. Accessible," he went on; "good shipping-point for country now undeveloped."
"You ought to be a real estate agent," I advised.
"Lived two hundred years too soon," disclaimed Dick. "What more obvious? These are certainly ancestors."
"Family may die out," I suggested.
"It has a good start," said Dick sweetly. "There are eighty-seven in it now."
"What!" I gasped.
"One great-grandfather, twelve grandparents, thirty-seven parents, and thirty-seven children," tabulated Dick.
"I should like to see the great-grandfather," said I; "he must be very old and feeble."
"He is eighty-five years old," said Dick, "and the last time I saw him he was engaged with an axe in clearing trees off his farm."