if he saw a question in my eye, he went on: "We do a forest-tree
business exclusively; these shade-trees, and walnuts, hickories,
chestnuts, and all kinds. It's a big trade, getting to be, and
growing all the time. Folks have begun to find out what fools they
were to destroy the forests, and the children want to buy back what
the fathers threw away."

I scarcely needed to prompt him; he was only too glad to talk on
about his business, and he spoke with a sort of homesick fondness.
He told me that he had his nurseries at De Witt Point, up on the St.
Lawrence, where he could raise stock hardy enough for any climate,
and ship by land or water.

"I've got to be getting home right away now," he said finally,
clicking his knife-blade half shut and open with his thumb.

"It's about time for our evergreen trade, and I don't want the trees
to stay a minute in the ground after the middle of the month."

"Won't the ladies find it hard to tear themselves away from the
gaieties of Saratoga?" I asked with apparent vagueness.

"Well, that's it," said Mr. Deering; and he shut his knife and
slipped it into his pocket, in order to take his knee between his
clasped hands and lift his leg from the ground. I have noticed that
this is a philosophical attitude with some people, and I was
prepared by it for some thoughtful generalising from my companion.
"Women would be willing to stay on in a place for a year to see if
something wouldn't happen; and if you take 'em away before anything
happens, they'll always think that if they'd stayed something would