Ancestors: A NovelAtherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
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Ancestors: A Novel
Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
British -- United States -- Fiction; California -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Love stories; Political fiction
He did not see Isabel again for three weeks. Several days after his
arrival he received a note from her, briefly stating that she was
starting for Los Angeles to exhibit her prize Favarolles and Leghorns at
a "Chicken show," and after that would pay a long deferred visit to her
sister. "But I shall not be long," she added, possibly with a flicker of
contrition, "only they have been planning things for me for ages and I
am always putting them off. I will spend a week--not with them, exactly,
but at their disposal, and it will be a relief to have it over."
Gwynne felt himself ill-treated, but shrugged his shoulders with a new
philosophy not all doggedness, and easily stretched to embrace the
vagaries of woman. And, in truth, he found an abundance of occupation.
Ascertaining that Mr. Leslie was away, he spent his time on the ranch,
examining its various yields, divisions, possibilities; to say nothing
of its books and history. The dairy was now an insignificant affair,
experiments having proved disastrous, and his superintendent advised him
to let it remain so. The greatest yield was in hay, and cattle raised
for the market. The last lessee had come to grief over blood horses, and
Gwynne's agents had accepted what remained of the racers and breeders in
default of apocryphal cash. Although advised that they could be sold to
advantage if haste were not imperative, Gwynne, who had a large balance
in the bank, determined to continue the experiment. Many acres of the
ranch were profitably let, although by the month only, as pasture both
for cows and horses. The orchards always made a handsome yield, and the
vegetable garden and strawberry beds needed only proper care to become
remunerative. Moreover, several acres had recently been planted with
kale, a favorite food of the conquering Leghorn, and there were fine
runs on the hills that might be fenced off for sheep--or chickens; but
at this point the superintendent always detected something even defiant
in his employer's cold indifference, and told his friends that the
Englishman was "haughty in spots."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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