His sister and her
husband, whom he had brought over from England when he bought the place,
ran it for him. They were the simplest sort of peasant people who had
hardly stirred from their little Surrey hamlet until that meteoric
brother of theirs had summoned them on their breath-taking voyage to
America, and for whom now, on this little Long Island farm, New York
might have been almost as far away as London. Mrs. Flaxman did all the
work of the house and farmyard without the aid of a servant, and her
husband raised vegetables for the New York market.
What the pair really thought of the life John Galbraith led, or of the
guests he sometimes brought out for week-end visits, no one knew. But
the pleasant sort of homely hospitality one always found there was
extremely attractive to Rose, and with Rodney's regular Saturday letter
at hand she'd have accepted the invitation eagerly. As it was, she
answered almost shortly that she couldn't come. Then, contrite, she
hastened to dilute her refusal with an elaboration of regrets and
hastily contrived reasons.
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