To forego the farm meant to forego all
these luxuries, and Mr. Merrick was unequal to the sacrifice. Why, only
that same morning he had bought a charming cottage piano and shipped it
to the Junction for Patsy's use. That seemed to settle the matter
definitely. To be balked of his summer vacation on his own farm was a
thing Mr. Merrick would not countenance for a moment.
"Give me that letter, Major," he said; "I'll run this enterprise
myself."
The Major resigned with a sigh of relief.
Uncle John promptly sent the real estate agent a draft for five hundred
dollars, with instructions to get the farm in shape for occupancy at the
earliest possible day.
"If Old Hucks is a farm hand and a bachelor," he wrote, "let him stay
till I come and look him over. If he's a married man and has a family,
chuck him out at once. I'm sure you are a man of good taste and
judgment. Look over the furniture in the house and telegraph me what
condition it is in. Everything about the place must be made cozy and
comfortable, but I wish to avoid an appearance of vulgarity or
extravagance."
The answer to this was a characteristic telegram:
_Furniture on the bum, like everything else. Will do the best I can.
McNutt_.
Uncle John did not display this discouraging report to Patsy or her
father.
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