human
It is not well; He cannot spend his life with dog and gun. I do not care that my one son should sleep Merely for keeping him in breath, and wake Only to ride to cover. Not the less The grandsire pondered.
gpt
Ay, the boy must WORK Or SPEND; and I must let him spend; just stay Awhile with us, and then from time to time Have leave to be away with those fine folk With whom, these many years, at school, and now, During his sojourn in the foreign towns, He has been made familiar. Thus a month Went by. They liked the stirring ways of youth, The quick elastic step, and joyous mind, Ever expectant of it knew not what, But something higher than has e'er been born Of easy slumber and sweet competence. And as for him,--the while they thought and thought A comfortable instinct let him know How they had waited for him, to complete And give a meaning to their lives; and still At home, but with a sense of newness there, And frank and fresh as in the school-boy days, He oft--invading of his father's haunts, The study where he passed the silent morn-- Would sit, devouring with a greedy joy The piled-up books, uncut as yet; or wake To guide with him by night the tube, and search, Ay, think to find new stars; then risen betimes, Would ride about the farm, and list the talk Of his hale grandsire. But a day came round, When, after peering in his mother's room, Shaded and shuttered from the light, he oped A door, and found the rosy grandmother Ensconced and happy in her special pride, Her storeroom. She was corking syrups rare, And fruits all sparkling in a crystal coat. Here after choice of certain cates well known, He, sitting on her bacon-chest at ease, Sang as he watched her, till right suddenly, As if a new thought came,
human
Goody, quoth he,
gpt
What, think you, do they want to do with me? What have they planned for me that I should do?
human
Do, laddie! quoth she faltering, half in tears;
gpt
Are you not happy with us, not content? Why would ye go away? There is no need That ye should DO at all. O, bide at home. Have we not plenty?
human
Even so, he said;
gpt
I did not wish to go.
human
Nay, then, quoth she,
gpt
Be idle; let me see your blessed face. What, is the horse your father chose for you Not to your mind? He is? Well, well, remain; Do as you will, so you but do it here. You shall not want for money. But, his arms Folding, he sat and twisted up his mouth With comical discomfiture.
human
What, then, She sighed,
gpt
human
Why, said he,
gpt
And she looked at him, Fond, foolish woman that she was, to find Some fitness in the worker for the work, And she found none. A certain grace there was Of movement, and a beauty in the face, Sun-browned and healthful beauty that had come From his grave father; and she thought,
human
Good lack, A farmer! he is fitter for a duke. He walks; why, how he walks! if I should meet One like him, whom I knew not, I should ask, 'And who may that be?' So the foolish thought Found words. Quoth she, half laughing, half ashamed,
gpt
We planned to make of you--a gentleman. And with engaging sweet audacity She thought it nothing less,--he, looking up, With a smile in his blue eyes, replied to her,
human
And hav'n't you done it? Quoth she, lovingly,
gpt
I think we have, laddie; I think we have.
human
Then, quoth he,
gpt
I may do what best I like; It makes no matter. Goody, you were wise To help me in it, and to let me farm; I think of getting into mischief else!
human
No! do ye, laddie? quoth the dame, and laughed.
gpt
But ask my grandfather, the youth went on,
human
To let me have the farm he bought last year, The little one, to manage. I like land; I want some.