“My Dear, will you ask Wilkes to show Mr. Johnston to the southwest room, and to put a fire in the grate and warm water in the pitcher?”

“Thank you, that will not be necessary,” said Percy.  “I wish to see and learn as much as possible of the country hereabout, and particularly of the farm lands; and, if I may leave my suit-case to be sent to my room when convenient, I shall take a walk,—­perhaps a long walk.  When should I be back to supper.”

“At six or half past.  My son Charles has gone to Montplain, but he will be home for dinner.  He knows the lands all about here and will be glad, I am sure, to give you any information possible.”

With rapid strides Percy followed the private lane to the open fields of Westover.

“Is he a cowboy, Grandma?” asked Adelaide, in a tone which did not suggest a very high regard for cowboys.  “Anyway,” she continued, detecting a shade of disapproval in the grandmother’s face, “he has a cowboy’s hat, but he doesn’t wear buckskin trousers or spurs.”

Percy’s hat was a relic of college life.  Two years before he had completed the agricultural course at one of the state universities in the corn belt.  Somewhat above the average in size, well proportioned, accustomed to the heaviest farm work, and trained in football at college, he was a sturdy young giant,—­” strong as an ox and quick as lightning,” in the exaggerated language of his football admirers

CHAPTER II

FORTY ACRES IN THE CORN BELT

Percy Johnston’s grandfather had gone west from “York State” and secured from the federal government a 160-acre “Claim” of the rich corn belt land.  His father had received through inheritance only 40 acres of this; and, marrying his choice from the choir of the local Lutheran congregation, he had farmed his forty and an adjoining eighty acres, “rented on shares,” for only three years, when he was taken with pneumonia from exposure and overwork, and died within a week.

Percy was scarcely a year old when his father was laid in the grave; but to the sorrowing mother he was all that life held dear.  Existence seemed possible to her only because she could bestow upon him her double affection, and because the double duties which she took upon herself completely occupied her time.

She was not in immediate financial need, for her husband had been able to put some money in the bank during the last year, after having paid for his “outfit;” the forty-acre farm was free from debt, but under the law it must remain the joint property of mother and child for twenty years.

Wisely or unwisely she rejected every opportunity presented that would have given Percy a stepfather.  As daughter and wife she had learned much of the art of agriculture, and, after some consultation with a neighbor who seemed to be successful, she made her own plans.

In her make up, sentiment was balanced with sense.  Even as a young wife she had sometimes driven the mower or the self-binder to “help-out,” and she had found pleasure and health in such hours of out-door life.  “I can work and not overwork,” she said to her friends; and in any case the crops seemed to grow better under the eye of the mistress.