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Updated: May 26, 2025
His mother smiled. Paul wondered that this had never struck him at home. "She is much cleverer than you are," he thought. Now they entered the garden. It was much larger and more beautiful than the one at Mussainen, but there was nothing to be seen of a sundial. Paul had formed a vague idea of it as a great golden tower, on which a round, sparkling disk of the sun formed the dial-plate.
Hurrah! that will be a nice sort of life: I with the beggar's wallet, you with the knapsack; I with the spade, you with the milk-pail." "That would not be the worst, after all," said the woman, softly. "No?" he laughed, bitterly. "Well, that I can get for you. There is Mussainen, for instance, which is to be sold the wretched moorland on the heath yonder."
He also gave his consent to their prolonged stay in the old home, though he did it with repugnance. The farm Mussainen, which in fact he had bought that same day, was in so desolate a condition that it seemed dangerous for wife and children to stay there in the cold autumn days. Above all, the most needful repairs had to be made.
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