If I remember right the fellow wrote like a blacksmith. If you want
horses and rigs, let Hutchinson send you down the right sort, with an
experienced groom and stable hands. But I'm not sure there will be a
place to put them."
"Oh, Uncle!" exclaimed Patsy; "don't let us have all those luxuries. Let
us live a simple life on the farm, and not degrade its charms by adding
city fixin's. The cow and the chickens are all right, but let's cut out
the horses until we get there. Don't you know, dear, that a big
establishment means lots of servants, and servants mean worry and
strife? I want to let down the bars for the cow when she moos, and milk
her myself."
"It takes a skilled mechanic to milk a cow," objected the Major.
"But Patsy's right!" cried her uncle, with conviction. "We don't want
any frills at all. Just tell your man, Major, to put the place into good
living condition."
"Patrichia," softly remarked the Major, with an admiring glance at his
small daughter, "has more sinse in her frizzled head than both of us put
together."
"If she hadn't more than you," retorted Uncle John, with a grin, "I'd
put a candle inside her noodle and call her a Jack-Lantern."
CHAPTER II.
THE AGENT.
The Major hunted up the real estate dealer's former letter as soon as he
reached his office next morning.
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