Page:Frank Owen - Rare Earth, 1931.djvu/265

 farm. The drab, gray buildings were now a pleasing green. The window-frames were white. Even the barn had been painted. All the broken branches and rubbish that littered the grounds had been removed.

Occasionally Jethro had snatched a moment to prune the trees and shrubs. He had wrought wonders. Now before the door there was a pebbled path with borders of flowers growing on either side. The fence had been painted white. The broken gate had been repaired and fitted with new hinges. The farm had grown to look unbelievably cozy and homelike.

"You've made a swell job of it," Samuel Gage said to Jethro. "About the only thing you 'aven't painted over is the cow."

Jethro smiled. "I will," he drawled, "if you are of the opinion that she needs it."

"Not worth while," chuckled Samuel Gage. "Reckon she'll do for another season."

Frequently Samuel sat on the porch to talk with Linda. Even her clothes had grown to look less threadbare. She usually wore a white shawl over a black dress.