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Stockton, Frank Richard, 1834-1902

"The Girl at Cobhurst"

You don't mind that, do you, Michael? You keep
everything in such nice order. I haven't seen your garden, but I know it
is a fine one, because I saw some of the vegetables that came out of it."
Mike grinned. "I reckon it ain't the same kind of a garden that you've
been used to, mum. I've heerd that you cooked for Queen Victoria."
"Oh no, no," said La Fleur, dropping her head on one side so that her
smile made a slight angle with the horizon; "I never cooked for the
queen, no indeed; but I have lived with high families, lords, ladies, and
ambassadors, and I don't remember that any of them had better potatoes
than I saw to-day. Is this a large farm, Michael?"
"It's considerable over a hundred acres, though I don't 'xactly know how
much. Not what you'd call big, and not what you'd call little."
"But you grow beautiful crops on it, I don't doubt," remarked La Fleur.
"Can't say about that," said Mike, shaking his head a little. "I 'spects
we'll git good 'nough craps for what we do for 'em. This ain't the kind
of farm your lords and ladies has got.


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