NEW LIVES FOR OLD NEW LIVES FOR OLD BY WILLIAM CARLETON AUTHOR OF “ONE WAY OUT” [Illustration] BOSTON SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1913 BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY (INCORPORATED) _Entered at Stationers’ Hall_ TO HOLT TO WHOM WE IN OUR TOWN OWE MUCH OF OUR SUCCESS CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I A NEW BEGINNING 1 II MY NEIGHBORS 21 III COLD FACTS 40 IV A TOWN ASLEEP 55 V STIRRING THINGS UP 64 VI A GAME WORTH PLAYING 72 VII THE PIONEERS 84 VIII THE NEW WAY 100 IX SPRING 117 X RESULTS 133 XI A GREAT DAY 149 XII NEW VENTURES 164 XIII GETTING TOGETHER 179 XIV FINDING OURSELVES 194 XV THE GOOSE HANGS HIGH 208 NEW LIVES FOR OLD NEW LIVES FOR OLD CHAPTER I A NEW BEGINNING The first thing I did when I was fairly on my feet was to buy a farm. It was a matter of sentiment with me. All my family with the exception of my father had been farmers and even he, in his latter years, had talked wistfully of the independence of country life. His father had owned a fairly prosperous farm in New Hampshire and on his few acres had lived and died. He had raised there wheat for his flour, wool for his clothing, hides for his shoes, cream for his butter, and meat and vegetables for his table. He even made a fairly good imitation tea and coffee and sweetened the drink with maple sugar from his own trees. Grandfather Carleton, according to father, could have built a Chinese wall about his fields and lived within its boundaries, asking favor of no man. I suppose it was the feeling of independence coming of this that made such men as he good Americans; the first to shoulder muskets for their country, the first to shoulder axes and blaze a trail through the wilderness. Ruth’s folks, too, had all been farmers. She herself was born and bred on a farm and I think it was that which gave her such good health and good courage. Though in the years of our struggle in the city I never heard her complain, I knew that always in her heart she had a great yearning for the fields and open sky. She never spoke of this, but sometimes Ruth says a great deal when she doesn’t speak. I know when I first told her of my plan she had to swallow hard to keep from crying. One thing alone disturbed Ruth and that was the thought that with success we were running away from our new-found friends. “Somehow it seems as though we ought to stay right on here where we’ve made good and share our success with the others,” she said. “You talk as though we’d made our fortune and were going back to the fatherland,” I said. “I feel that way,” she admitted.