"Of course I thought of that," he answered, with some impatience. "But how am I to find out about it without exciting the cupidity of the native farmers? Once aroused, it is a terrible thing. I might advertise: 'Wanted, a place of not less than fifty acres, with large house commanding a good view over a valley, a herd of about twenty-five Guernseys, a barn with all the modern improvements, and a power pump. Price no object.' Rather narrows it down a trifle." Mrs. Ladue almost chuckled. "I won't keep you in suspense," she said. "Uncle John owned it when he brought me out here. He told me so. And he owned this house, too." "Uncle John!" cried Fox. "He knew a thing or two, didn't he? I wish I had found it while he was living. Now, I suppose I shall have to buy it of Miss Patty; that is, if I can. Who is the executor of the will? Do you know?" She shook her head. "I haven't heard anything about the will, yet. I think it's likely to be Dick Torrington. Uncle John seemed to like Dick very much and he thought very well of him." "I'll see Dick Torrington to-day. We may as well go back." He turned the horse about; then stopped again, looking back at the cream-colored house. He looked for a long time. "It's very pleasant," he said, at last, sighing. "Those trees, now--those in the grove--do they strike you as being suitable for a gynesaurus to climb? Do they?" he asked softly. His eyes looked into hers for a moment. His eyes were very gentle--oh, very gentle, indeed, and somewhat wistful; windows of the soul. At that moment he was laying bare his heart to her. She knew it; it was a thing she had never known him to do before. She put her hand to her heart; an involuntary movement. "Oh, Fox!" she breathed. "Oh, Fox!" Then she spoke eagerly. "Will you--are you going to--" He smiled at her, and his smile was full of gentleness and patience. "I hope so," he answered. "In the fullness of time. It is a part of my dearest wish. Yes, when the time is ripe, I mean to. Not yet. She is not ready for it yet." "She is nearly twenty-one," Mrs Ladue said anxiously, "and beginning to be restless under her teaching. Don't wait too long, Fox. Don't wait too long." "I have your blessing, then? I have your best wishes for my success?" "You know you have," she murmured, a little catch in her voice. "I thought that I could count on them," he replied gratefully, "but I thank you for making me certain of it." She seemed as if about to speak; but she said nothing, after all. Fox smiled and took up the reins again. The drive back was a silent one. Fox was busy with his own thoughts; and Mrs. Ladue, it is to be supposed, was busy with hers. CHAPTER VIII