"And last
night when there was a fair, I thought he stuck around more than he
was needed: There was the meanest boy that stuck up his hose at
movers' children."
Aunt Corinne's brother Tip laughed under his breath.
"You'll not be movers' children much longer. The home is over
yonder, only half a day's ride or so."
"Is it a nice place?"
"I think it's a nice place. There's prairie, but there's timber too.
And there's money to be made. You go to sleep now. You'll wake your
grandma, and I expect she's tired."
"Yes, sir, I'm going. Is there a garden?"
"There's a good bit of ground for a garden; and there's a planting
of young catalpas. Far as the eye can see in one direction, it's
prairie. On the other side is woods. The house is better than the old
one. I had to build, and I built pretty substantial. Your grandma's
growing old. She'll need comforts in her old age, and we must put
them around her, my man."
Bobaday thought about this home to which he and his family were to
grow as trees grasp the soil. Already it seemed better to him than
the one he had left. There would be new playmates, new landscapes,
new meadows to run in, new neighbors, new prospects.
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