Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/254

 with the odor of the Ceylon tea and cigarettes.

“That’s what I came about, Cousin Jule—the old place. You may think it’s queer, for I never lived there but two years once, when father and your Uncle Joe farmed it on shares; but those two years just made it home to me. Of course Uncle Joe wasn’t any real relation of mine, and you-all weren’t my real cousins, but it was the only family I ever had, so to say, and I loved every one of you. Then we moved back into town; but you know I came in every week or so, and Aunt Martha used to have my room in the attic ready for me, just the same.”

“Yes, I know; Aunt Martha never forgot you, Cousin Lorando.”

“Well, it’s fifteen years since I saw the old place, and a lot’s happened since then, I tell you. First place, I’m a rich man, Cousin Jule.

“Oh, I don’t mean one of these multi-