I intend to make my own terms, and share in it." "And not take a salary or some sum of money down ?" said Christie, slowly removing her bonnet in the same resigned way.
"I am not a hired man, or a workman, Christie," said her father sharply.
"You ought not to oblige me to remind you of that." "But the hired men--the superintendent and his workmen--were the only ones who ever got anything out of your last experience with Colonel Waters at La Grange, and--and we at least lived among civilized people there." "These young men are not common people, Christie; even if they have forgotten the restraints of speech and manners, they're gentlemen." "Who are willing to live like--like negroes." "You can make them what you please." Christie raised her eyes.

There was a certain cynical ring in her father's voice that was unlike his usual hesitating abstraction.

It both puzzled and pained her.
"I mean," he said hastily, "that you have the same opportunity to direct the lives of these young men into more regular, disciplined channels that I have to regulate and correct their foolish waste of industry and material here.

It would at least beguile the time for you." Fortunately for Mr.Carr's escape and Christie's uneasiness, Jessie, who had been examining the details of the living-room, broke in upon this conversation.
"I'm sure it will be as good as a perpetual picnic.

George Kearney says we can have a cooking-stove under the tree outside at the back, and as there will be no rain for three months we can do the cooking there, and that will give us more room for--for the piano when it comes; and there's an old squaw to do the cleaning and washing-up any day--and--and--it will be real fun." She stopped breathlessly, with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes--a charming picture of youth and trustfulness.