It was just an old fashioned, dilapidated New England farmhouse, but the century-old lilac bush at the corner of the house and the overrun orchard that sloped down to the ferny tangle of the little brook proved irresistible to the tired out Man of Books. And then and there began the rejuvenation of "Twin Fires."
It is a delightful tale, full of humor and homely, genuine sentiment, with many practical touches that will appeal to all back-to-the-landers, actual and incipient.
The gray eyes darted a look into the professor's face; then they became enigmatic. "Powerful lot o' money," he mused, moving on. "Whar's yourn?" he added to me.
"If I had one of those, I couldn't have your farm," said I.
He squinted shrewdly. "Dunno's yer kin, anyway, do ye?" was his reply.
He now led us into the kitchen. We saw the face of the old lady peering at us from the "butt'ry." A modern range was backed up against a huge, old-fashioned brick oven, no longer used. A copper pump, with a brass knob on the curved handle, stood at one end of the sink--"Goes ter the well," said Milt. The floor was of ancient, hardwood planking, now worn into polished ridges. A door led up a low step into the main house, which consisted, downstairs, of two rooms, dusty and disused, to the left, and two similar rooms, used as bedrooms, to the south (all four containing fireplaces), and a hall, where a staircase with carved rail led to the hall above, flanked by four chambers, each with its fi