.

"I don't know. All I do know is that poor people can't be happy in the
city where they have labor troubles all the time. If they can't be happy
in the country, then there's no happiness anywhere, and that doesn't
seem fair, does it?"

"It is sound reasoning, my dear, as far as it goes. But you must
remember that there are many poor people in the country and many unhappy
people."

"You look neither poor nor unhappy," Saxon challenged.

"You ARE a dear."

Saxon saw the pleased flush in the other's face, which lingered as she
went on.

"But still, I may be peculiarly qualified to live and succeed in the
country. As you say yourself, you've spent your life in the city. You
don't know the first thing about the country. It might even break your
heart."

Saxon's mind went back to the terrible months in the Pine street
cottage.

"I know already that the city will break my heart. Maybe the country
will, too, but just the same it's my only chance, don't you see. It's
that or nothing. Besides, our folks before us were all of the country.
It seems the more natural way. And better, here I am, which proves
that 'way down inside I must want the country, must, as you call it, be
peculiarly qualified for the country, or else I wouldn't be here."

The other nodded approval, and looked at her with growing interest.

"That young man--" she began.

"Is my husband. He was a teamster until the big strike came. My name is
Roberts, Saxon Roberts, and my husband is William Roberts."

"And I am Mrs. Mortimer," the other said, with a bow of acknowledgment.
"I am a widow. And now, if you will ask your husband in, I shall try to
answer some of your many questions. Tell him to put the bundles inside
the gate.. .. And now what are all the questions you are filled with?"

"Oh, all kinds. How does it pay? How did you manage it all? How much did
the land cost? Did you build that beautiful house? How much do you pay
the men? How did you learn all the different kinds of things, and which
grew best and which paid best? What is the best way to sell them? How do
you sell them?" Saxon paused and laughed. "Oh, I haven't begun yet.
Why do you have flowers on the borders everywhere? I looked over the
Portuguese farms around San Leandro, but they never mixed flowers and
vegetables."

Mrs. Mortimer held up her hand. "Let me answer the last first. It is the
key to almost everything."

But Billy arrived, and the explanation was deferred until a