"Pah!" said the Major, scornfully. "You talk as if it were a real farm,
instead of a place no one would have as a gift."

Uncle John looked sober again.

"Anyone live on the place, Major?" he inquired.

"I believe not. It's gone to ruin and decay the last few years."

"But it could be put into shape?"

"Perhaps so; at an expense that will add to your loss."

"Never mind that."

"If you want farm life, why don't you rent a respectable farm?" demanded
the Major.

"No; this is my farm. I own it, and it's my bounded duty to live on it,"
said Uncle John, stubbornly. "Write to that real estate fellow at
Millville tomorrow and tell him to have the place fixed up and put into
ship-shape order as quickly as possible. Tell him to buy some cows and
pigs and chickens, and hire a man to look after them. Also a horse and
buggy, some saddle horses----"

"Go slow, John. Don't leave such a job to a country real estate dealer.
If I remember right the fellow wrote like a blacksmith. If you want
horses and rigs, let Hutchinson send you down the right sort, with an
experienced groom and stable hands. But I'm not sure there will be a