But the young man was not considering either the geographical contours of the country at large or the refreshed and renovated potato field, with its serried ranks of low-growing plants, as he tramped heavily crosslots toward the house.  At noon, when he came in to dinner, in response to the wideflung summons of the tin horn which hung by the back door, he had found the two women of his household in a pleasurable state of excitement.

“We’ve got our share, Jim!” proclaimed Mrs. Dodge, a bright red spot glowing on either thin cheek.  “See! here’s the check; it came in the mail this morning.”

And she spread a crackling bit of paper under her son’s eyes.

“I was some surprised to get it so soon,” she added.  “Folks ain’t generally in any great hurry to part with their money.  But they do say Miss Orr paid right down for the place—­never even asked ’em for any sort of terms; and th’ land knows they’d have been glad to given them to her, or to anybody that had bought the place these dozen years back.  Likely she didn’t know that.”

Jim scowled at the check.

“How much did she pay for the place?” he demanded.  “It must have been a lot more than it was worth, judging from this.”

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Dodge replied.  “And I dunno as I care particularly, as long’s we’ve got our share of it.”

She was swaying back and forth in a squeaky old rocking-chair, the check clasped in both thin hands.

“Shall we bank it, children; or draw it all out in cash?  Fanny needs new clothes; so do you, Jim.  And I’ve got to have a new carpet, or something, for the parlor.  Those skins of wild animals you brought in are all right, Jim, if one can’t get anything better.  I suppose we’d ought to be prudent and saving; but I declare we haven’t had any money to speak of, for so long—­”

Mrs. Dodge’s faded eyes were glowing with joy; she spread the check upon her lap and gazed at it smilingly.

“I declare it’s the biggest surprise I’ve had in all my life!”

“Let’s spend every cent of it,” proposed Fanny recklessly.  “We didn’t know we were going to have it.  We can scrub along afterward the same as we always have.  Let’s divide it into four parts:  one for the house—­to fix it up—­and one for each of us, to spend any way we like.  What do you say, Jim?”

“I shouldn’t wonder if Mrs. Deacon Whittle would furnish up her best parlor something elegant,” surmised Mrs. Dodge.  “She’s always said she was goin’ to have gilt paper and marble tops and electric blue plush upholstered furniture.  I guess that’ll be the last fair we’ll ever have in that house.  She wouldn’t have everybody trampin’ over her flowered Body-Brussels.  I suppose we might buy some plush furniture; but I don’t know as I’d care for electric blue.  What do you think, son?”

Jim Dodge sat sprawled out in his chair before the half-set table.  At this picture of magnificence, about to be realized in the abode of Deacon Amos Whittle, he gave vent to an inarticulate growl.