Burroughs staid to tea, and, while it was being prepared,
strolled with Karl about the little farm; looked at the Alderney
cow, the Suffolk pigs, the span of Morgan horses named Pope and
Pagan; quietly sounded the depths of Capt. Karl's open and joyous
nature, and made him talk of his cousin Dora, and reveal his love
and his hopes regarding her.
"They will marry out there, and she will manage him, and make him
very happy," thought Mr. Burroughs, returning toward the farmhouse,
and admiring the long slope of the mossy roof, and the clinging
masses of woodbine creeping to the ridge-pole.
"You won't make so picturesque a thing of your new home for several
years to come, if ever, Mr. Windsor," added he aloud.
"No, I suppose not; but the genius of our people is more for
beginning than ending, and this old place was built by my
grandfather," said the young man.
"An excellent and most American reason for deserting it," said Mr.
Burroughs gravely; "and, if you are thinking of selling, I should
like the opportunity of becoming purchaser. This sort of thing is
going out of the market, and I should like to secure a specimen
before it is too late. It is same as a picture, except that it is
stationary, and one must come to it instead of carrying it away in
triumph.
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