reached that Dorian should work harder than ever, if that were possible,
for two or perhaps three years, by which time the farms could be rented
and the income derived from them be enough to provide for the mother's
simple needs and the son's expenses while at school.

Spring came early that year, and Dorian was glad of it, for he was eager
to be out in the growing world and turn that growth to productiveness.
When the warm weather came for good, books were laid aside, though not
forgotten. From daylight until dark, he was busy. The home farm was well
planted, the dry-farm wheat was growing beautifully. Between the two,
prospects were bright for the furthering of their plans.

"Mother, when and where in this great plan of ours, am I to get
married?"

Dorian and his mother were enjoying the dusk and the cool of the evening
within odorous reach of Mrs. Trent's flowers, many of which had come
from Uncle Zed's garden. They had been talking over some details of
their "plan." Mrs. Trent laughed at the abruptness of the question.

"Oh, do you want to get married?" she asked, wondering what there might
be to this query.

"Well--sometimes, of course, I'll have to have a wife, won't I?"

"Certainly, in good time; but you're in no hurry, are you?"

"Oh, no; I'm just talking on general principles. There's no one who
would have me now."