“I intended doing so,” answered George, and when at night he was the owner of the farm, house and furniture, he generously offered it to Mr. Lincoln rent free, with the privilege of redeeming it whenever he could.

This was so unexpected, that Mr. Lincoln at first could hardly find words to express his thanks, but when he did he accepted the offer, saying, however, that he could pay the rent, and adding that he hoped two or three years of hard labor in California, whither he intended going, would enable him to purchase it back.  On his return to Glenwood, he asked William, who was still there, “how he would like to turn farmer for a while.”

Jenny looked up in surprise, while William asked what he meant.

Briefly then Mr. Lincoln told of George’s generosity, and stating his own intentions of going to California, said that in his absence somebody must look after the farm, and he knew of no one whom he would as soon trust as William.

“Oh, that’ll be nice,” said Jenny, whose love for the country was as strong as ever.  “And then, Willie, when pa comes back we’ll go to Boston again and practise law, you and I!”

William pressed the little fat hand which had slid into his, and replied, that much as he would like to oblige Mr. Lincoln, he could not willingly abandon his profession, in which he was succeeding even beyond his most sanguine hopes.  “But,” said he, “I think I can find a good substitute in Mr. Parker, who is anxious to leave the poor-house.  He is an honest, thorough-going man, and his wife, who is an excellent housekeeper, will relieve Mrs. Lincoln entirely from care.”

“Mercy!” exclaimed the last-mentioned lady, “I can never endure that vulgar creature round me.  First, I’d know she’d want to be eating at the same table, and I couldn’t survive that!”

Mr. Lincoln looked sad.  Jenny smiled, and William replied, that he presumed Mrs. Parker herself would greatly prefer taking her meals quietly with her husband in the kitchen.

“We can at least try it,” said Mr. Lincoln, in a manner so decided that his wife ventured no farther remonstrance, though she cried and fretted all the time, seemingly lamenting their fallen fortune, more than the vacancy which death had so recently made in their midst.

Mr. Parker, who was weary of the poor-house, gladly consented to take charge of Mr. Lincoln’s farm, and in the course of a week or two Jenny and her mother went out to their old home, where every thing seemed just as they had left it the autumn before.  The furniture was untouched, and in the front parlor stood Rose’s piano and Jenny’s guitar, which had been forwarded from Boston.  Mr. Lincoln urged his mother-in-law to accompany them, but she shook her head, saying, “the old bees never left their hives,” and she preferred remaining in Glenwood.