"Nonsense! He's strong as an ox," insisted Sister Soulsby. "You mark my
word, he'll thrive in Seattle like a green bay-tree."

"Seattle!" echoed Alice, meditatively. "It sounds like the other end of
the world, doesn't it?"

The noise of feet in the house broke upon the colloquy, and the women
went indoors, to join the breakfast party. During the meal, it was
Brother Soulsby who bore the burden of the conversation. He was full of
the future of Seattle and the magnificent impending development of that
Pacific section. He had been out there, years ago, when it was next door
to uninhabited. He had visited the district twice since, and the changes
discoverable each new time were more wonderful than anything Aladdin's
lamp ever wrought. He had secured for Theron, through some of his
friends in Portland, the superintendency of a land and real estate
company, which had its headquarters in Seattle, but ambitiously linked
its affairs with the future of all Washington Territory. In an hour's
time the hack would come to take the Wares and their baggage to the
depot, the first stage in their long journey across the continent
to their new home. Brother Soulsby amiably filled the interval with
reminiscences of the Oregon of twenty years back, with instructive
dissertations upon the soil, climate, and seasons of Puget Sound and the
Columbia valley, and, above all, with helpful characterizations of the
social life which had begun to take form in this remotest West. He had
nothing but confidence, to all appearances, in the success of his young
friend, now embarking on this new career. He seemed so sanguine about
it that the whole atmosphere of the breakfast room lightened up, and the
parting meal, surrounded by so many temptations to distraught broodings
and silences as it was, became almost jovial in its spirit.