Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/259

 do that,” she said thoughtfully. “That would be nice.”

“You see, I’m willing to make any arrangement, Cousin Jule. It’s about all there is that I’m fond of now, that old place. I haven’t any folks of my own, and not a chick nor child, and I love every stick and stone of that farm. I love the country, and I love Connecticut country best of all, I don’t care if it is rocky. You can’t make farming pay in New England any more. But I don’t need to make it pay; I’m willing to pay for the pleasure of it. And I want to do something for the town, too. I want ’em to be glad I came to settle there. Who’s got the keys?”

“I have, right here,” she answered. “The furniture is all ours, you see; they haven’t brought much, only they’ve changed things all around. I haven’t renewed the lease yet for this year.”

“Well, now, look here, Jule,” Mr. Bean cried eagerly, dropping the end of