Her son, on the lower step, stirred as if uncomfortable. These memories, once prone to rouse a tender amusement, now carried their secret sting.
"He was the real thing," the farmer gravely commented. "There wasn't many like him."
Sadie, who was not interested in a man dead ten years ago, pushed the conversation on to her own generation.
"His daughters are grown up. They must be young ladies now."
"Yes--Miss Chrystie's just eighteen, came of age this summer. The other one's a few years older."
"Up in Virginia," said the farmer, "George Alston was a bachelor. Every woman was out with her lariat after him but he give 'em all the slip. And afterward, when he went back East to see his folks, a little girl in his home town got him--a girl a lot younger than him. She died after a few years."
There was regret in his tone, not so much for the untimely demise of the lady as for the fact that George Alston had not found his mate in California.
"What are they like?" said Sadie--"pretty?"
Mark had his back toward her. She could see the shape of it, pale in its light-colored shirt, against the dark filigree of shrubs at the bottom of the steps. His answer sounded indifferent between puffs of his pipe:
"Yes, I guess so. Miss Chrystie's a big, fine sort of girl, with yellow hair and lots of color. She's nearly as tall as I am. The other, Miss Lorry--well, she's small."
"They'd ought to have a heap of money," said the farmer. "But when he died I heard he hadn't cut up as rich as you'd think. Folks said he was too honest."
"They've got enough--four hundred thousand each."
"Well, well, well," said Mother with a lazy laugh, "that'd do _me_."
"Lord, that's small for him," he mourned. "But I'm not surprised. He wouldn't 'a' stood for what some of the rest of 'em did."
"I suppose it is; it's big enough, lots of bay windows and rooms and piazzas. It's on Pine Street, near town, with a garden round it full of palms and trees."
"No--at least I never heard of any. They're quiet sort of girls, don't go out much. Just live there with an old lady--Mrs. Tisdale--some relative of their mother's."
Sadie was disappointed. Having been led to expect so much from these children of wealth, she felt cheated and was inclined to criticize. She rather grumbled about their being so quiet. Mother disagreed: