“If you and Joshua would only take that Sylvester farm, and build a house, Annie,” said Mr. Holt, munching the dried bread which was specially prepared for him, “I should be completely happy. Then,” he added, turning to Honora, “I should have both my sons settled on the place. Robert and Gwen are sensible in building.”
“It's cheaper to live with you, granddad,” laughed Mrs. Joshua. “Josh says if we do that, he has more money to buy cows.”
At this moment a footman entered, and presented Mrs. Holt with some mail on a silver tray.
“The Vicomte de Toqueville is coming this afternoon, Joshua,” she announced, reading rapidly from a sheet on which was visible a large crown. “He landed in New York last week, and writes to know if I could have him.”
“Another of mother's menagerie,” remarked Robert.
“I don't think that's nice of you, Robert,” said his mother. “The Vicomte was very kind to your father and me in Paris, and invited us to his chateau in Provence.”
Robert was sceptical.
“Are you sure he had one?” he insisted.
Even Mr. Holt laughed.
“Robert,” said his mother, “I wish Gwen could induce you to travel more. Perhaps you would learn that all foreigners aren't fortune-hunters.”