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Updated: June 15, 2025
"I can help," Kit answered quietly. "People abroad have paid some debts I didn't expect to get and I'm richer than I thought." He paused and mused for a moment or two. "It's strange the thing should happen now. When I came home I imagined Ashness would occupy all my time, but I soon began to feel I hadn't scope enough. You see, I'd been with Adam and he was a hustler.
Collectors had sometimes offered to buy the tall clock and ponderous meal chest, but Askew would not sell. The most part of his furniture had been brought to Ashness by his great-grandfather. Peter's face was brown and deeply lined, and his shoulders were bent, for he had led a life of steady toil.
Jim Nixon had to help me across the water when I went last night, and I don't suppose you're afraid of wetting your feet. You are used to it at Ashness." "Yes," said Kit. "My boots are stronger than yours." "Canny lad!" she answered, with a mocking laugh. Kit felt embarrassed, for he thought he saw what she meant. Janet Bell was something of a coquette.
The money he brought home would not have made him a rich man in America, but it would go a long way in the dale, and the soil and flocks at Ashness could be improved by modern methods and carefully spent capital. Kit had begun at once and found his task engrossing, but when the day's work was over he felt a gentle melancholy and a sense of loneliness.
Rather a bore to walk to Tarnside, and the trout will probably rise again if there's wind enough to make a ripple, but I forgot to ask for sandwiches." "If you lunch with me, you could come back afterwards," Kit suggested, and they set off down the hill. When they reached Ashness, Gerald tried to hide his surprise.
"You're certainly Peter's son," he remarked. "I can imagine I'd just left him at the end of the Ashness lonning thirty years since. Except that he's got older, I reckon he hasn't changed, and for that matter, Peter was never young. Well, you are surely like him, but if you stop in this country we'll put a move on you." "If I'm like my father, I am satisfied," Kit rejoined.
Perhaps she had not told all and the little she had left out was important. By and by she got up and went into the house. Gerald Osborn came home next day and not long afterwards Kit found him lying on the gravel beside a tarn on the Ashness moor. Heavy rain had fallen, but the clouds had rolled away and the water shone with dazzling light.
He was thinner and looked older than when he left Ashness. He had lost something of his frankness and his raw enthusiasm had gone. His face was quieter and his mouth set in a firm line. He remembered his surprise when he first met his uncle at a luxurious Florida hotel. Adam Askew wore loose white clothes, a well-cut Tuxedo jacket, a diamond ring, and another big diamond in his scarf.
"No," said Kit firmly; "it alters nothing and leaves me where I was. I'm satisfied with Ashness." "Ah," said Osborn. "You mean you would sooner be a working farmer than a country gentleman? The preference is somewhat remarkable!" "I know where I belong. The important thing is that if Miss Osborn marries me, she will be a farmer's wife." "Exactly," said Osborn.
Bright streaks of foam eddied about the Rio Negro's side, and a long smoke cloud trailed astern as she steamed to the North. Kit was comfortably tired when he sat down by the beck at the head of the dale. He had been at Ashness for a week, and finding much to be done had occupied himself with characteristic energy.
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