da and a balcony and a lot of ornamental
woodwork, and with just such a well-mown lawn in front. Wouldn't
that have been nice, Gabriel?"

As the son said nothing, the farmer concluded that he must be tired
of hearing about the farm, so he, too, lapsed into silence although
his thoughts were still upon his home. He wondered how the horses
would fare with their new owners, and how things in general would
be run on the place. "My goodness!" he muttered under his breath,
"I'm surely doing a foolish thing in selling out to a corporation!
They'll go and cut down all the trees, and let the farm go to
waste. It would be just like them to allow the land to become
marshy again, and to let the birch woods grow down into the
fields."

They had at last reached the works, where the farmer's interest
was again roused. There he saw ploughs and harrows of the latest
pattern, and was suddenly reminded that for a long time he had been
thinking of getting a new reaper. Gazing fondly at his good-looking
son, he pictured him sitting on a fine, red-painted reaper,
cracking his whip over the horses, and mowing down the thick,
waving grass, as a war hero mows down his enemies. And as he
stepped into the office he seemed to hear the clicking noise of the
reaper, the soft swish of falling grass and the shrill chirp and
light flutter of frightened birds and insects.

On the desk in there lay the deed. The negotiations had been
concluded, and the price settled upon; all that was needed to
complete the deal was his signature.

While the deed was being read to him he sat quietly listening. He
heard that there were so and so many acres of woodland, and so and
so many of arable land and meadow, so and so many head of cattle,
and such and such household furnishings, all of which he must turn
over. His features became set.

"No," he said to himself, "it mustn't happen."

After the reading he was about to say that he had changed his
mind, when his son bent down and whispered to him:

"Father, it's a choice between me and the farm, for I'm going
anyway no matter what you do."

The peasant had been so completely taken up with thoughts of his
farm that it had not occurred to him that his son would leave him.
So Gabriel would go in any case! He could not quite make this out.
He would never have thought of leaving had his son decided to
remain at home. But, naturally, wherever his son went, he, too,
must go.

He stepped up to the desk, where the