Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/abandonedfarmer00presiala THE ABANDONED FARMER by SYDNEY H. PRESTON Charles Scribner's Sons New York 1901 Copyright, 1901, by Charles Scribner's Sons All rights reserved _CONTENTS_ _Page_ _I. Before the Plunge_ _1_ _II. Peter Waydean is Found Wanting_ _22_ _III. An Upheaval_ _45_ _IV. The Education of Griggs_ _60_ _V. Paul and the Chickens_ _89_ _VI. A Cow and a Calf_ _104_ _VII. The Advent of William Wedder_ _125_ _VIII. Marion Rises to the Occasion_ _146_ _IX. Aunt Sophy's Generosity_ _168_ _X. Uncle Benny Creates a Diversion_ _183_ _XI. The Wedding-Day_ _195_ _XII. The Exit of William Wedder_ _224_ _XIII. The Fairy Well_ _236_ _XIV. A Pastoral Call_ _254_ _XV. The Harvest_ _277_ The Abandoned Farmer I BEFORE THE PLUNGE "You need to turn the little chap loose in the country," was the doctor's verdict, given in a low tone that didn't--thank Heaven!--attract Paul's attention, though if the child hadn't been absorbed for the moment in driving a brood of imaginary chickens into an imaginary coop under a real parlor table this indiscreet reference would have caused a scene. The doctor had been cautioned not to do or say anything that would arouse suspicion in the mind of our offspring as to the real nature of his visit, so he should have known better, but of course he couldn't know what a dread Paul had of sometime having to go somewhere without his parents. Marion sank weakly into a chair, then sat up very straight and braced herself for what was coming; I made a frantic pantomimic appeal to the doctor for temporary silence, then I grabbed Paul by the arm, pointing out the fiction that the chickens had escaped around the end of the table into the hall. When he had darted out in pursuit I shut the door, turning in time to hear Marion say with a piteous break in her voice: "Doctor, tell us the worst--is it his lungs?" His tone, to our over-anxious ears, had suggested a fear that he was about to break the news that our precious boy was doomed to an early grave, and it was a relief to see him not only smile, but look as if he would enjoy a hearty laugh. "Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Carton," he said cheerily. "He's a delicate little fellow, but spry as a cricket and quite sound. Send him to the country for six months,--and--ha ha!--don't coddle him so much."