It seemed that New England in general—and the state of Connecticut in particular—was thickly speckled with delightful1 old places which, through overcultivation or ill-treatment, had become for the time being sterile3 and non-productive; so that the original owners had moved away to the nearby manufacturing towns, leaving their ancestral homesteads empty and their ancestral acres idle. As a result there were great numbers of desirable places, any one of which might be had for a song. That was the term most commonly used by the writers of these articles—abandoned farms going for a song. Now, singing is not my forte4; still, I made up my mind that if such indeed was the case I would sing a little, accompanying myself on my bank balance, and win me an abandoned farm.
The formula as laid down by the authorities was simple in the extreme: Taking almost any Connecticut town for a starting point, you merely meandered6 along an elm-lined road until you came to a desirable location, which you purchased for the price of the aforesaid song. This formality being completed, you spent a trivial sum in restoring the fences, and so on, and modernizing7 the interior of the house; after which it was a comparatively easy task to restore the land to productiveness by processes of intensive agriculture—details procurable8 from any standard book on the subject or through easy lessons by mail. And so presently, with scarcely any trouble or expense at all, you were the possessor of a delightful country estate upon which to spend your declining years. It made no difference whether you were one of those persons who had never to date declined anything of value; there was no telling when you might start in.
I could shut my eyes and see the whole delectable9 prospect10: Upon a gentle eminence11 crowned with ancient trees stood the rambling12 old manse, filled with marvelous antique furniture, grandfather's clocks dating back to the whaling days, spinning wheels, pottery13 that came over on the Mayflower, and all those sorts of things. Round about were the meadows, some under cultivation2 and some lying fallow, the latter being dotted at appropriate intervals14 with fallow deer.
At one side of the house was the orchard15, the old gnarly trees crooking16 their bent17 limbs as though inviting18 one to come and pluck the sun-kissed fruit from the burdened bough19; at the other side a purling brook20 wandering its way into a greenwood copse, where through all the golden day sang the feathered warblers indigenous21 to the climate, including the soft-billed Greenwich thrush, the Peabody bird, the Pettingill bird, the red worsted pulse-warmer, and others of the commoner varieties too numerous to mention.
At the back were the abandoned cotes and byres, with an abandoned rooster crowing lustily upon a henhouse, and an abandoned bull calf22 disporting23 himself in the clover of the pasture. At the front was a rolling vista24 undulating gently away to where above the tree-tops there rose the spires25 of a typical New England village full of old line Republicans and characters suitable for putting into short stories. On beyond, past where a silver lake glinted in the sunshine, was a view either of the distant Sound or the distant mountains. Personally I intended that my establishment should be so placed as to command a view of the Sound from the east windows and of the mountains from the west windows. And all to be had for a song! Why, the mere5 thought of it was enough to make a man start taking vocal27 culture right away.
Besides, I had been waiting impatiently for a long time for an opportunity to work out several agricultural projects of my own. For example, there was my notion in regard to the mulberry. The mulberry, as all know, is one of our most abundant small fruits; but many have objected to it on account of its woolly appearance and slightly caterpillary taste. My idea was to cross the mulberry on the slippery elm—pronounced, where I came from, ellum—producing a fruit which I shall call the mulellum. This fruit would combine the health-giving qualities of the mulberry with the agreeable smoothness of the slippery elm; in fact, if my plans worked out I should have a berry that would go down so slick the consumer could not taste it at all unless he should eat too many of them and suffer from indigestion afterward29.
Then there was my scheme for inducing the common chinch bug30 to make chintz curtains. If the silk worms can make silk why should not the chinch bug do something useful instead of wasting his energies in idle pursuits? This is what I wished to know. And why should this man Luther Burbank enjoy a practical monopoly of all these propositions? That was the way I looked at it; and I figured that an abandoned farm would make an ideal place for working out such experiments as might come to me from time to time.
The trouble was that, though everybody wrote of the abandoned farms in a broad, general, allur-ing way, nobody gave the exact location of any of them. I subscribed31 for one of the monthly publications devoted32 to country life along the Eastern seaboard and searched assiduously through its columns for mention of abandoned farms. The owners of most of the country places that were advertised for sale made mention of such things as fourteen master's bedrooms and nine master's baths—showing undoubtedly33 that the master would be expected to sleep oftener than he bathed—sunken gardens and private hunting preserves, private golf links and private yacht landings.
In nearly every instance, also, the advertisement was accompanied by a halftone picture of a structure greatly resembling the new county court house they are going to have down at Paducah if the bond issue ever passes. This seemed a suitable place for holding circuit court in, or even fiscal34 court, but it was not exactly the kind of country home that we had pictured for ourselves. As my wife said, just the detail of washing all those windows would keep the girl busy fully35 half the time. Nor did I care to invest in any sunken gardens. I had sufficient experience in that direction when we lived in the suburbs and permanently36 invested about half of what I made in our eight-by-ten flower bed in an effort to make it produce the kind of flowers that the florists37' catalogues described. You could not tell us anything about that subject—we knew where a sunken garden derives38 its name. We paid good money to know.
None of the places advertised in the monthly seemed sufficiently39 abandoned for our purposes, so for a little while we were in a quandary40. Then I had a bright thought. I said to myself that undoubtedly abandoned farms were so cheap the owners did not expect to get any real money for them; they would probably be willing to take something in exchange. So I began buying the evening papers and looking through them in the hope of running across some such item as this:
To Exchange—Abandoned farm, centrally located, with large farmhouse41, containing all antique furniture, barns, outbuildings, family graveyard—planted—orchard, woodland, fields—unplanted—for a collection of postage stamps in album, an amateur magician's outfit42, a guitar with book of instructions, a safety bicycle, or what have you? Address Abandoned, South Squantum Center, Connecticut.
I found no such offers, however; and in view of what we had read this seemed stranger still. Finally I decided43 that the only safe method would be by first-hand investigation44 upon the spot. I would go by rail to some small but accessible hamlet in the lower part of New England. On arriving there I personally would examine a number of the more attractive abandoned farms in the immediate45 vicinity and make a discriminating46 selection. Having reached this conclusion I went to bed and slept peacefully—or at least I went to bed and did so as soon as my wife and I had settled one point that came up unexpectedly at this juncture47. It related to the smokehouse. I was in favor of turning the smokehouse into a study or workroom for myself. She thought, though, that by knocking the walls out and altering the roof and building a pergola on to it, it would make an ideal summer house in which to serve tea and from which to view the peaceful landscape of afternoons.
We argued this back and forth48 at some length, each conceding something to the other's views; and finally we decided to knock out the walls and alter the roof and have a summer house with a pergola in connection. It was after we reached this compromise that I slept so peacefully, for now the whole thing was as good as settled. I marveled at not having thought of it sooner.
It was on a bright and peaceful morning that I alighted from the train at North Newburybunkport.
Considering that it was supposed to be a typical New England village, North Newbury-bunkport did not appear at first glance to answer to the customary specifications49, such as I had gleaned50 from my reading of novels of New England life. I had expected that the platform would be populated by picturesque51 natives in quaint52 clothes, with straws in their mouths and all whittling53; and that the depot54 agent would wear long chin whiskers and say "I vum!" with much heartiness55 at frequent intervals. Right here I wish to state that so far as my observations go the native who speaks these words about every other line is no longer on the job. Either I Vum the Terrible has died or else he has gone to England to play the part of the typical American millionaire in American plays written by Englishmen.
Instead of the loafers, several chauffeurs56 were idling about the station and a string of automobiles57 was drawn59 up across the road. Just as I disembarked there drove up a large red bus labeled: Sylvan60 Dale Summer Hotel, European and American Plans. The station agent also proved in the nature of a disappointment. He did not even say "I swan" or "I cal'late!" or anything of that nature. He wore a pink in his buttonhole and his hair was scalloped up off his forehead in what is known as the lion tamer's roach. Approaching, I said to him:
"In what direction should I go to find some of the abandoned farms of this vicinity? I would prefer to go where there is a good assortment61 to pick from."
He did not appear to understand, so I repeated the question, at the same time offering him a cigar.
"Bo," he said, "you've sure got me winging now. You'd better ask Tony Magnito—he runs the garage three doors up the street from here on the other side. Tony does a lot of driving round the country for suckers that come up here, and he might help you."
To reach the garage I had to cross the road, dodging62 several automobiles in transit63, and then pass two old-fashioned New England houses fronting close up to the sidewalk. One had the sign of a teahouse over the door, and in the window of the other, picture postcards, birch-bark souvenirs and standard varieties of candy were displayed for sale.
Despite his foreign-sounding name, Mr. Magnito spoke64 fair English—that is, as fair English as any one speaks who employs the Manhattan accent in so doing.
Even after he found out that I did not care to rent a touring car for sightseeing purposes at five dollars an hour he was quite affable and accommodating; but my opening question appeared to puzzle him just as in the case of the depot agent.
"Mister," he said frankly65, "I'm sorry, but I don't seem to make you. What's this thing you is looking for? Tell me over again slow."
Really the ignorance of these villagers regarding one of their principal products—a product lying, so to speak, at their very doors and written about constantly in the public prints—was ludicrous. It would have been laughable if it had not been deplorable. I saw that I could not indulge in general trade terms. I must be painfully explicit66 and simple.
"What I am seeking"—I said it very slowly and very distinctly—"is a farm that has been deserted67, so to speak—one that has outlived its usefulness as a farm proper, and everything like that!"
"Oh," he says, "now I get you! Why didn't you say that in the first place? The place you're looking for is the old Parham place, out here on the post road about a mile. August'll take good care of you—that's his specialty68."
"August?" I inquired. "August who?"
"August Weinstopper—the guy who runs it," he explained. "You must have known August if you lived long in New York. He used to be the steward69 at that big hotel at Broadway and Forty-second; that was before he came up here and opened up the old Parham place as an automobile58 roadhouse. He's cleaning up about a thousand a month. Some class to that mantrap! They've got an orchestra, and nothing but vintage goods on the wine card, and dancing at all hours. Any night you'll see forty or fifty big cars rolling up there, bringing swell70 dames71 and-"
I judge he saw by my expression that he was on a totally wrong tack72, because he stopped short.
"Say, mister," he said, "I guess you'd better step into the post-office here—next door—and tell your troubles to Miss Plummer. She knows everything that's going on round here—and she ought to, too, seeing as she gets first chance at all the circulars and postal73 cards that come in. Besides, I gotter be changing that gasoline sign—gas has went up two cents a gallon more."
Miss Plummer was sorting mail when I appeared at her wicket. She was one of those elderly, spinsterish-looking, kittenish females who seem in an intense state of surprise all the time. Her eyebrows74 arched like croquet wickets and her mouth made O's before she uttered them.
"Name, please?" she said twitteringly.
I told her.
"Ah," she said in the thrilled tone of one who is watching a Fourth of July skyrocket explode in midair. The news seemed to please her.
"And the initials, please?"
"The initials are of no consequence. I do not expect any mail," I said. "I want merely to ask you a question."
"Indeed!" she said coyly. She said it as though I had just given her a handsome remembrance, and she cocked her head on one side like a bird—like a hen-bird.
"I hate to trouble you," I went on, "but I have experienced some difficulty in making your townspeople understand me. I am looking for a certain kind of farm—a farm of an abandoned character." At once I saw I had made a mistake.
"You do not get my meaning," I said hastily. "I refer to a farm that has been deserted, closed up, shut down—in short, abandoned. I trust I make myself plain."
She was still suffering from shock, however. She gave me a wounded-fawn glance and averted75 her burning face.
"The Prewitt property might suit your purposes—whatever they may be," she said coldly over her shoulder. "Mr. Jabez Pickerel, of Pickerel & Pike, real-estate dealers76, on the first corner above, will doubtless give you the desired information. He has charge of the Prewitt property."
At last, I said to myself as I turned away, I was on the right track. Mr. Pickerel rose as I entered his place of business. He was a short, square man, with a brisk manner and a roving eye.
"I have been directed to you," I began. He seized my hand and began shaking it warmly. "I have been told," I continued, "that you have charge of the old Prewitt farm somewhere near here; and as I am in the market for an aban-" I got no farther than that.
"In one minute," he shouted explosively—"in just one minute!"
Still clutching me by the hand, he rushed me pell-mell out of the place. At the curbing77 stood a long, low, rakish racing-model roadster, looking something like a high-powered projectile78 and something like an enlarged tailor's goose. Leaping into this machine at one bound, he dragged me up into the seat beside him and threw on the power. Instantly we were streaking79 away at a perfectly80 appalling81 rate of speed—fully forty-five to fifty-five miles an hour I should say. You never saw anything so sudden in your life. It was exactly like a kidnaping. It was only by the exercise of great self-control that I restrained myself from screaming for help. I had the feeling that I was being abducted—for what purpose I knew not.
As we spun82 round a corner on two wheels, spraying up a long furrow83 of dust, the same as shown in pictures of the chariot race in Ben-Hur, a man with a watch in his hand and wearing a badge—a constable84, I think—ran out of a house that had a magistrate's sign over it and threw up his hand authoritatively85, as though to stop us; but my companion yelled something the purport86 of which I could not distinguish and the constable fell back. Glancing rearward over my shoulder I saw him halting another car bearing a New York license87 that did not appear to be going half so fast as we were.
In another second we were out of town, tearing along a country highway. Evidently sensing the alarm expressed by my tense face and strained posture88, this man Pickerel began saying something in what was evidently intended to be a reassuring89 tone; but such was the roaring of the car that I could distinguish only broken fragments of his speech. I caught the words "unparalleled opportunity," repeated several times—the term appeared to be a favorite of his—and "marvelous proposition." Possibly I was not listening very closely anyhow, my mind being otherwise engaged. For one thing I was surmising90 in a general sort of way upon the old theory of the result when the irresistible91 force encounters the immovable object. I was wondering how long it would be before we hit something solid and whether it would be possible afterward to tell us apart. His straw hat also made me wonder. I had mine clutched in both hands and even then it fluttered against my bosom92 like a captive bird, but his stayed put. I think yet he must have had threads cut in his head to match the convolutions of the straw and screwed his hat on, like a nut on an axle.
I have a confused recollection of rushing with the speed of the tornado94 through rows of trees; of leaping from the crest95 of one small hill to the crest of the next small hill; of passing a truck patch with such velocity96 that the lettuce97 and tomatoes and other things all seemed to merge98 together in a manner suggestive of a well-mixed vegetable salad.
Then we swung off the main road in between the huge brick columns of an ornate gateway99 that stood alone, with no fence in connection. We bumpily100 traversed a rutted stretch of cleared land; and then with a jar and a jolt101 we came to a pause in what appeared to be a wide and barren expanse.
As my heart began to throb102 with slightly less violence I looked about me for the abandoned farmhouse. I had conceived that it would be white with green blinds and that it would stand among trees. It was not in sight; neither were the trees. The entire landscape presented an aspect that was indeed remarkable103. Small numbered stakes, planted in double lines at regular intervals, so as to form aisles104, stretched away from us in every direction. Also there were twin rows of slender sticks planted in the earth in a sort of geometric pattern. Some were the size of switches. Others were almost as large as umbrella handles and had sprouted105 slightly. A short distance away an Italian was steering106 a dirtscraper attached to a languid mule28 along a sort of dim roadway. There were no other living creatures in sight. Right at my feet were two painted and lettered boards affixed107 at cross angles to a wooden upright. The legend on one of these boards was: Grand Concourse. The inscription109 on the other read: Nineteenth Avenue West. Repressing a gasp110, I opened my mouth to speak.
"Ahem!" I said. "There has been some mistake—"
"There can be no mistake!" he shouted enthusiastically. "The only mistake possible is not to take advantage of this magnificent opportunity while it is yet possible to do so. Just observe that view!" He waved his arm in the general direction of the horizon from northwest to southeast. "Breathe this air! As a personal favor to me just breathe a little of this air!" He inhaled111 deeply himself as though to show me how, and I followed suit, because after that ride I needed to catch up with my regular breathing.
"Thank you!" I said gratefully when I had finished breathing. "But how about——"
"Quite right!" he cried, beaming upon me admiringly. "Quite right! I don't blame you. You have a right to know all the details. As a business man you should ask that question. You were about to say: But how about the train service? Ah, there spoke the true business man, the careful investor112! Twenty fast trains a day each way—twenty, sir! Remember! And as for accessibility—well, accessibility is simply no name for it! Only two or three minutes from the station. You saw how long it took us to get here to-day? Well, then, what more could you ask? Right here," he went on, pointing, "is the country club—a magnificent thing!"
I looked, but I didn't see anything except a hole in the ground about fifty feet from us.
"Where?" I asked. "I don't see it."
"Well," he said, "this is where it is going to be. You automatically become a member of the country club; in fact, you are as good as a member now! And right up there at the corner of Lincoln Boulevard and Washington Parkway, where that scraper is, is the public library—the site for it! You'll be crazy about the public library! When we get back I'll let you run over the plans for the public library while I'm fixing up the papers. Oh, 'my friend, how glad I am you came while there was yet time!"
I breasted the roaring torrent113 of his pouring language.
"One minute," I begged of him—"One minute, if you please! I am obliged to you for the interest you take in me, a mere stranger to you; but there has been a misunderstanding. I wanted to see the Prewitt place."
"This is the Prewitt place," he said.
"Yes," I said; "but where is the house? And why all this—why all these-" I indicated by a wave of my hand what I meant.
"Naturally," he explained, "the house is no longer here. We tore it away—it was old; whereas everything here will be new, modern and up-to-date. This is—or was—the Prewitt place, now better known as Homecrest Heights, the Development Ideal!" Having begun to capitalize his words, he continued to do so. "The Perfect Addition! The Suburb Superb! Away From the City's Dust and Heat! Away From Its Glamor114 and Clamor! Into the Open! Into the Great Out-of-Doors! Back to the Soil! Villa26 Plots on Easy Terms! You Furnish the Birds, We Furnish the Nest! The Place For a Business Man to Rear His Family! You Are Married? You Have a Wife? You Have Little Ones?"
"Yes," I said, "one of each—one wife and one little one."
"Ah!" he cried gladly. "One Little One—How Sweet! You Love Your Little One—Ah, Yes! Yes! You Desire to Give Your Little One a Chance? You Would Give Her Congenial Surroundings—Refined Surroundings? You Would Inculcate in Her While Young the Love of Nature?" He put an entire sentence into capitals now: "Give Your Little One a Chance! That is All I Ask of You!"
He had me by both lapels. I thought he was going to kneel to me in pleading. I feared he might kiss me. I raised him to his feet. Then his manner changed—it became domineering, hectoring, almost threatening.
I will pass briefly115 over the events of the succeeding hour, including our return to his lair116 or office. Accounts of battles where all the losses fall upon one side are rarely interesting to read about anyway. Suffice it to say that at the last minute I was saved. It was a desperate struggle though. I had offered the utmost resistance at first, but he would surely have had his way with me—only that a train pulled in bound for the city just as he was showing me, as party of the first part, where I was to sign my name on the dotted line A. Even then, weakened and worn as I was, I should probably not have succeeded in beating him off if he had not been hampered117 by having a fountain pen in one hand and the documents in the other. At the door he intercepted118 me; but I tackled him low about the body and broke through and fled like a hunted roebuck, catching119 the last car just as the relief train pulled out of the station. It was a close squeeze, but I made it. The thwarted120 Mr. Pickerel wrote me regularly for some months thereafter, making mention of My Little One in every letter; but after a while I took to sending the letters back to him unopened, and eventually he quit.
I reached home along toward evening. I was tired, but I was not discouraged. I reported progress on the part of the committee on a permanent site, but told my wife that in order to find exactly what we wanted it would be necessary for us to leave the main-traveled paths. It was now quite apparent to me that the abandoned farm-seeker who stuck too closely to the railroad lines was bound to be thrown constantly in contact with those false and feverish121 metropolitan122 influences which, radiating from the city, have spread over the country like the spokes123 of a wheel or an upas tree, or a jauga-naut, or something of that nature. The thing to do was to get into an automobile and go away from the principal routes of travel, into districts where the abandoned farms would naturally be more numerous.
This solved one phase of the situation—we now knew definitely where to go. The next problem was to decide upon some friend owning an automobile. We fixed108 upon the Winsells. They are charming people! We are devoted to the Winsells. They were very good friends of ours when they had their small four-passenger car; but since they sold the old one and bought a new forty-horse, seven-passenger car, they are so popular that it is hard to get hold of them for holidays and week-ends.
Every Saturday—nearly—some one of their list of acquaintances is calling them up to tell of a lovely spot he has just heard about, with good roads all the way, both coming and going; but after a couple of disappointments we caught them when they had an open date. Over the telephone Winsell objected that he did not know anything about the roads up in Connecticut, but I was able to reassure124 him promptly125 on that score. I told him he need not worry about that—that I would buy the road map myself. So on a fair Saturday morning we started.
The trip up through the extreme lower end of the state of New York was delightful, being marred126 by only one or two small mishaps127. There was the trifling128 incident of a puncture129, which delayed us slightly; but fortunately the accident occurred at a point where there was a wonderful view of the Croton Lakes, and while Winsell was taking off the old tire and adjusting a new one we sat very comfortably in the car, enjoying Nature's panorama130.
It was a little later on when we hit a dog. It seemed to me that this dog merely sailed, yowling, up into the air in a sort of long curve, but Winsell insisted that the dog described a parabola. I am very glad that in accidents of this character it is always the victims that describe the parabola. I know I should be at a complete loss to describe one myself. Unless it is something like the boomerang of the Australian aborigines I do not even know what a parabola is. Nor did I dream until then that Winsell understood the dog language. However, those are but technical details.
After we crossed the state line we got lost several times; this was because the country seemed to have a number of roads the road map omitted, and the road map had many roads the country had left out. Eventually, though, we came to a district of gently rolling hills, dotted at intervals with those neat white-painted villages in which New England excels; and between the villages at frequent intervals were farmhouses131. Abandoned ones, however, were rarer than we had been led to expect. Not only were these farms visibly populated by persons who appeared to be permanently attached to their respective localities, but at many of them things were offered for sale—such as home-made pastry132, souvenirs, fresh poultry133, antique furniture, brass134 door-knockers, milk and eggs, hand-painted crockery, table board, garden truck, molasses taffy, laundry soap and livestock135.
At length, though, when our necks were quite sore from craning this way and that on the watch for an abandoned farm that would suit us, we came to a very attractive-looking place facing a lawn and flanked by an orchard. There was a sign fastened to an elm tree alongside the fence. The sign read: For Information Concerning This Property Inquire Within.
To Winsell I said:
"Stop here—this is without doubt the place we have been looking for!"
Filled—my wife and I—with little thrills of anticipation136, we all got out. I opened the gate and entered the yard, followed by Winsell, my wife and his wife. I was about halfway137 up the walk when a large dog sprang into view, at the same time showing his teeth in rather an intimidating138 way. To prevent an encounter with an animal that might be hostile, I stepped nimbly behind the nearest tree. As I came round on the other side of the tree there, to my surprise, was this dog face to face with me. Still desiring to avoid a collision with him, I stepped back the other way. Again I met the dog, which was now growling139. The situation was rapidly becoming embarrassing when a gentleman came out upon the porch and called sharply to the dog. The dog, with apparent reluctance140, retired141 under the house and the gentleman invited us inside and asked us to be seated. Glancing about his living room I noted142 that the furniture appeared to be a trifle modern for our purposes; but, as I whispered to my wife, you cannot expect to have everything to suit you at first. With the sweet you must ever take the bitter—that I believe is true, though not an original saying.
In opening the conversation with the strange gentleman I went in a businesslike way direct to the point.
"You are the owner of these premises143?" I asked. He bowed. "I take it," I then said, "that you are about to abandon this farm?"
"I beg your pardon?" he said, as though confused.
"I presume," I explained, "that this is practically an abandoned farm."
"Not exactly," he said. "I'm here."
"Yes, yes; quite so," I said, speaking perhaps a trifle impatiently. "But you are thinking of going away from it, aren't you?"
"Yes," he admitted; "I am."
"Now," I said, "we are getting round to the real situation. What are you asking for this place?"
"Eighteen hundred," he stated. "There are ninety acres of land that go with the house and the house itself is in very good order."
I considered for a moment. None of the abandoned farms I had ever read about sold for so much as eighteen hundred dollars. Still, I reflected, there might have been a recent bull movement; there had certainly been much publicity144 upon the subject. Before committing myself, I glanced at my wife. Her expression betokened145 acquiescence146.
"That figure," I said diplomatically, "was somewhat in excess of what I was originally prepared to pay; still, the house seems roomy and, as you were saying, there are ninety acres. The furniture and equipment go with the place, I presume?"
"Naturally," he answered. "That is the customary arrangement."
"And would you be prepared to give possession immediately?"
"Immediately," he responded.
I began to feel enthusiasm. By the look on my wife's face I could tell that she was enthused, too.
"If we come to terms," I said, "and everything proves satisfactory, I suppose you could arrange to have the deed made out at once?"
"The deed?" he said blankly. "You mean the lease?"
"The lease?" I said blankly. "You mean the deed?"
"The deed?" he said blankly. "You mean the lease?"
"The lease, indeed," said my wife. "You mean——"
I broke in here. Apparently147 we were all getting the habit.
"Let us be perfectly frank in this matter," I said. "Let us dispense148 with these evasive and dilatory149 tactics. You want eighteen hundred dollars for this place, furnished?"
"Exactly," he responded. "Eighteen hundred dollars for it from June to October." Then, noting the expressions of our faces, he continued hurriedly: "A remarkably150 small figure considering what summer rentals151 are in this section. Besides, this house is new. It costs a lot to reproduce these old Colonial designs!"
I saw at once that we were but wasting our time in this person's company. He had not the faintest conception of what we wanted. We came away. Besides, as I remarked to the others after we were back in the car and on our way again, this house-farm would never have suited us; the view from it was nothing extra. I told Winsell to go deeper into the country until we really struck the abandoned farm belt.
So we went farther and farther. After a while it was late afternoon and we seemed to be lost again. My wife and Winsell's wife were tired; so we dropped them at the next teahouse we passed. I believe it was the eighteenth teahouse for the day. Winsell and I then continued on the quest alone. Women know so little about business anyway that it is better, I think, whenever possible, to conduct important matters without their presence. It takes a masculine intellect to wrestle152 with these intricate problems; and for some reason or other this problem was becoming more and more complicated and intricate all the time.
On a long, deserted stretch of road, as the shadows were lengthening153, we overtook a native of a rural aspect plodding154 along alone. Just as we passed him I was taken with an idea and I told Winsell to stop. I was tired of trafficking with stupid villagers and avaricious155 land-grabbers. I would deal with the peasantry direct. I would sound the yeoman heart—which is honest and true and ever beats in accord with the best dictates156 of human nature.
"My friend," I said to him, "I am seeking an abandoned farm. Do you know of many such in this vicinity?"
"How?" he asked.
I never got so tired of repeating a question in my life; nevertheless, for this yokel's limited understanding, I repeated it again.
"Well," he said at length, "whut with all these city fellers moving in here to do gentleman-farming—whatsoever that may mean—farm property has gone up until now it's wuth considerable more'n town property, as a rule. I could scursely say I know of any of the kind of farms you mention as laying round loose—no, wait a minute; I do recollect93 a place. It's that shack157 up back of the country poor farm that the supervisors158 used for a pest house the time the smallpox159 broke out. That there place is consider'bly abandoned. You might try—"
In a stern tone of voice I bade Winsell to drive on and turn in at the next farmhouse he came to. The time for trifling had passed. My mind was fixed. My jaw160 was also set. I know, because I set it myself. And I have no doubt there was a determined161 glint in my eye; in fact, I could feel the glint reflected upon my cheek.
At the next farm Winsell turned in. We passed through a stone gateway and rolled up a well-kept road toward a house we could see in glimpses through the intervening trees. We skirted several rather neat flower beds, curved round a greenhouse and came out on a stretch of lawn. I at once decided that this place would do undoubtedly. There might be alterations162 to make, but in the main the establishment would be satisfactory even though the house, on closer inspection163, proved to be larger than it had seemed when seen from a distance.
On a signal from me Winsell halted at the front porch. Without a word I stepped out. He followed. I mounted the steps, treading with great firmness and decision, and rang the doorbell hard. A middle-aged164 person dressed in black, with a high collar, opened the door.
"Are you the proprietor165 of this place?" I demanded without any preamble166. My patience was exhausted167; I may have spoken sharply.
"Oh, no, sir," he said, and I could tell by his accent he was English; "the marster is out, sir."
"I wish to see him," I said, "on particular business—at once! At once, you understand—it is important!"
"Perhaps you'd better come in, sir," he said humbly168. It was evident my manner, which was, I may say, almost haughty169, had impressed him deeply. "If you will wait, sir, I'll have the marster called, sir. He's not far away, sir."
"Very good," I replied. "Do so!"
He showed us into a large library and fussed about, offering drinks and cigars and what-not. Winsell seemed somewhat perturbed170 by these attentions, but I bade him remain perfectly calm and collected, adding that I would do all the talking.
We took cigars—very good cigars they were. As they were not banded I assumed they were home grown. I had always heard that Connecticut tobacco was strong, but these specimens171 were very mild and pleasant. I had about decided I should put in tobacco for private consumption and grow my own cigars and cigarettes when the door opened, and a stout172 elderly man with side whiskers entered the room. He was in golfing costume and was breathing hard.
"As soon as I got your message I hurried over as fast as I could," he said.
"You need not apologize," I replied; "we have not been kept waiting very long."
"I presume you come in regard to the traction173 matter?" he ventured.
"No," I said, "not exactly. You own this place, I believe?"
"I do," he said, staring at me.
"So far, so good," I said. "Now, then, kindly174 tell me when you expect to abandon it."
He backed away from me a few feet, gaping175. He opened his mouth and for a few moments absent-mindedly left it in that condition.
"When do I expect to do what?" he inquired. "When," I said, "do you expect to abandon it?" He shook his head as though he had some marbles inside of it and liked the rattling176 sound.
"I don't understand yet," he said, puzzled.
"I will explain," I said very patiently. "I wish to acquire by purchase or otherwise one of the abandoned farms of this state. Not having been able to find one that was already abandoned, though I believe them to be very numerous, I am looking for one that is about to be abandoned. I wish, you understand, to have the first call on it. Winsell"—I said in an aside—"quit pulling at my coat-tail! Therefore," I resumed, readdressing the man with the side whiskers, "I ask you a plain question, to wit: When do you expect to abandon this one? I expect a plain answer."
He edged a few feet nearer an electric push button which was set in the wall. He seemed flustered177 and distraught; in fact, almost apprehensive178.
"May I inquire," he said nervously179, "how you got in here?"
"Your servant admitted us," I said, with dignity. "Yes," he said in a soothing180 tone; "but did you come afoot—or how?"
"I drove here in a car," I told him, though I couldn't see what difference that made.
"Merciful Heavens!" he muttered. "They do not trust you—I mean you do not drive the car yourself, do you?"
Here Winsell cut in.
"I drove the car," he said. "I—I did not want to come, but he"—pointing to me—"he insisted." Winsell is by nature a groveling soul. His tone was almost cringing181.
"I see," said the gentleman, wagging his head, "I see. Sad case—very sad case! Young, too!" Then he faced me. "You will excuse me now," he said. "I wish to speak to my butler. I have just thought of several things I wish to say to him. Now in regard to abandoning this place: I do not expect to abandon this place just yet—probably not for some weeks or possibly months. In case I should decide to abandon it sooner, if you will leave your address with me I will communicate with you by letter at the institution where you may chance to be stopping at the time. I trust this will be satisfactory."
He turned again to Winsell.
"Does your—ahem—friend care for flowers?" he asked.
"Yes," said Winsell. "I think so."
"Perhaps you might show him my flower gardens as you go away," said the side-whiskered man. "I have heard somewhere that flowers have a very soothing effect sometimes in such cases—or it may have been music. I have spent thirty thousand dollars beautifying these grounds and I am really very proud of them. Show him the flowers by all means—you might even let him pick a few if it will humor him."
I started to speak, but he was gone. In the distance somewhere I heard a door slam.
Under the circumstances there was nothing for us to do except to come away. Originally I did not intend to make public mention of this incident, preferring to dismiss the entire thing from my mind; but, inasmuch as Winsell has seen fit to circulate a perverted182 and needlessly exaggerated version of it among our circle of friends, I feel that the exact circumstances should be properly set forth.
It was a late hour when we rejoined our wives. This was due to Winsel's stupidity in forgetting the route we had traversed after parting from them; in fact, it was nearly midnight before he found his way back to the teahouse where we left them. The teahouse had been closed for some hours then and our wives were sitting in the dark on the teahouse porch waiting for us. Really, I could not blame them for scolding Winsell; but they displayed an unwarranted peevishness183 toward me. My wife's display of temper was really the last straw. It was that, taken in connection with certain other circumstances, which clinched184 my growing resolution to let the whole project slide into oblivion. I woke her up and in so many words told her so on the way home. We arrived there shortly after daylight of the following morning.
So, as I said at the outset, we gave up our purpose of buying an abandoned farm and moved into a flat on the upper west side.
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1
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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forte
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| n.长处，擅长；adj.(音乐)强音的 | |
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5
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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meandered
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| （指溪流、河流等）蜿蜒而流( meander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
modernizing
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| 使现代化，使适应现代需要( modernize的现在分词 )； 现代化，使用现代方法 | |
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8
procurable
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| adj.可得到的，得手的 | |
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delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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10
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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11
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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12
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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13
pottery
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| n.陶器，陶器场 | |
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14
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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15
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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16
crooking
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| n.弯曲（木材等的缺陷）v.弯成钩形( crook的现在分词 ) | |
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17
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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18
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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19
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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20
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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21
indigenous
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| adj.土产的，土生土长的，本地的 | |
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22
calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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23
disporting
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| v.嬉戏，玩乐，自娱( disport的现在分词 ) | |
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24
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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25
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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26
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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27
vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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28
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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29
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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30
bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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31
subscribed
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| v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
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32
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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33
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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34
fiscal
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| adj.财政的，会计的，国库的，国库岁入的 | |
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35
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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36
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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37
florists
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| n.花商，花农，花卉研究者( florist的名词复数 ) | |
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38
derives
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| v.得到( derive的第三人称单数 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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39
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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40
quandary
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| n.困惑，进迟两难之境 | |
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41
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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42
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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43
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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44
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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45
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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46
discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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47
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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48
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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49
specifications
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| n.规格；载明；详述；（产品等的）说明书；说明书( specification的名词复数 )；详细的计划书；载明；详述 | |
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50
gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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51
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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52
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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53
whittling
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| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
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54
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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55
heartiness
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| 诚实，热心 | |
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56
chauffeurs
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| n.受雇于人的汽车司机( chauffeur的名词复数 ) | |
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57
automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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58
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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59
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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60
sylvan
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| adj.森林的 | |
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61
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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62
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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63
transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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64
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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65
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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66
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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67
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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68
specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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69
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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70
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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71
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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72
tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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73
postal
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| adj.邮政的，邮局的 | |
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74
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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75
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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76
dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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77
curbing
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| n.边石，边石的材料v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的现在分词 ) | |
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78
projectile
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| n.投射物，发射体；adj.向前开进的；推进的；抛掷的 | |
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79
streaking
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| n.裸奔（指在公共场所裸体飞跑）v.快速移动( streak的现在分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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80
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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81
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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82
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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83
furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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84
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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85
authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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86
purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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87
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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88
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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89
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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90
surmising
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的现在分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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91
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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92
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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93
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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94
tornado
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| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
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95
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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96
velocity
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| n.速度，速率 | |
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97
lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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98
merge
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| v.(使)结合，(使)合并，(使)合为一体 | |
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99
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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100
bumpily
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| adv.扑通 | |
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101
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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102
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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103
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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104
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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105
sprouted
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| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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106
steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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107
affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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108
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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109
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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110
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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111
inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
investor
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| n.投资者，投资人 | |
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113
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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114
glamor
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| n.魅力，吸引力 | |
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115
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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116
lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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117
hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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119
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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120
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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121
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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122
metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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123
spokes
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| n.（车轮的）辐条( spoke的名词复数 )；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 | |
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124
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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125
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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126
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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127
mishaps
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| n.轻微的事故，小的意外( mishap的名词复数 ) | |
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128
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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129
puncture
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| n.刺孔，穿孔；v.刺穿，刺破 | |
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130
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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131
farmhouses
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| n.农舍，农场的主要住房( farmhouse的名词复数 ) | |
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132
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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133
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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134
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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135
livestock
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| n.家畜，牲畜 | |
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136
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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137
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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138
intimidating
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| vt.恐吓，威胁( intimidate的现在分词) | |
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139
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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140
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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141
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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142
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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143
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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144
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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145
betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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146
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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147
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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148
dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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149
dilatory
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| adj.迟缓的，不慌不忙的 | |
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150
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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151
rentals
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| n.租费，租金额( rental的名词复数 ) | |
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152
wrestle
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| vi.摔跤，角力；搏斗；全力对付 | |
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153
lengthening
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
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154
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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155
avaricious
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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156
dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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157
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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158
supervisors
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| n.监督者，管理者( supervisor的名词复数 ) | |
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159
smallpox
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| n.天花 | |
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160
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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161
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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162
alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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163
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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164
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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165
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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166
preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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167
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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168
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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169
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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170
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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173
traction
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| n.牵引；附着摩擦力 | |
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174
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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175
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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176
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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177
flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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178
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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179
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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180
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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181
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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182
perverted
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| adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 )；腐蚀；败坏；使堕落 | |
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183
peevishness
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| 脾气不好；爱发牢骚 | |
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184
clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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