" For when
he thought of Anna, in the gay autumn weather, he felt old and moldy.
"A bad year," said Mr. Tomkins; "still, I guess you're not worrying. I
understand you put a silo in your barn. But I suppose you have your
own reasons for doing it. A good year for cows, what with the grass.
I hear you're thinking of buying Crabbe's Jersey bull. A fine animal;
I'd like him myself."
"You're welcome to him," said Mr. Barly.
"Ah," said Mr. Tomkins, "he's beyond me, Mr. Barly, beyond my means.
I'm not a rich man. But I have my health."
"What are riches?" asked Mr. Barly. "They're a source of trouble, Mr.
Tomkins. They teach a young girl to waste her time."
"Well, trouble," said Mr. Tomkins.
"But what's trouble? Between you and me, a bit of trouble is good for
us all. Then we're liable to know better."
Mr. Barly shook his head wearily. "I don't know," he said; "folks are
queer crotchets."
"Why, then," said Mr. Tomkins, "so they are; and so would I be, as
crotchety as you like, if I owned anything beyond the | little I have.
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