Early in the afternoon, on the outskirts of San Jose, Saxon called a
halt.

"I'm going right in there and talk," she declared, "unless they set the
dogs on me. That's the prettiest place yet, isn't it?"

Billy, who was always visioning hills and spacious ranges for his
horses, mumbled unenthusiastic assent.

"And the vegetables! Look at them! And the flowers growing along the
borders! That beats tomato plants in wrapping paper."

"Don't see the sense of it," Billy objected. "Where's the money come
in from flowers that take up the ground that good vegetables might be
growin' on?"

"And that's what I'm going to find out." She pointed to a woman, stooped
to the ground and working with a trowel; in front of the tiny bungalow.
"I don't know what she's like, but at the worst she can only be mean.
See! She's looking at us now. Drop your load alongside of mine, and come
on in."

Billy slung the blankets from his shoulder to the ground, but elected to
wait. As Saxon went up the narrow, flower-bordered walk, she noted two
men at work among the vegetables--one an old Chinese, the other old and
of some dark-eyed foreign breed. Here were neatness, efficiency, and
intensive cultivation with a vengeance--even her untrained eye could see
that. The woman stood up and turned from her flowers, and Saxon saw that
she was middle-aged, slender, and simply but nicely dressed. She wore
glasses, and Saxon's reading of her face was that it was kind but
nervous looking.

"I don't want anything to-day," she said, before Saxon could speak,
administering the rebuff with a pleasant smile.

Saxon groaned inwardly over the black-covered telescope basket.
Evidently the woman had seen her put it down.

"We're not peddling," she explained quickly.

"Oh, I am sorry for the mistake."

This time the woman's smile was even pleasanter, and she waited for
Saxon to state her errand.

Nothing loath, Saxon took it at a plunge.

"We're looking for land. We want to be farmers, you know, and before we
get the land we want to find out what kind of land we want. And seeing
your pretty place has just filled me up with questions. You see, we
don't know anything about farming. We've lived in the city all our life,
and now we've given it up and are going to live in the country and be
happy."

She paused. The woman's face seemed to grow quizzical, though the
pleasantness did not abate.

"But how do you know you will be happy in the country?" she asked