Before we reached the landing I had invested a goodly sum in four pairs of rubber boots, for I knew how hopeless it would be to try to keep Winnie and Bobsey indoors. As for Mousie, she would have to be prudent until the ground should become dry and warm.
There is no need of dwelling long on the bringing home of our effects and the getting to rights. We were back soon after ten, and found that Winnie and Bobsey, having exhausted the resources of the house, had been permitted to start at the front door, and, with an old fire-shovel and a piece of board, had well-nigh completed a path to the well, piling up the snow as they advanced, so that their overshoes were a sufficient protection.
After we had carried in the things I interceded with Mr. Jones and then told the boys that they could take their guns and be absent two or three hours if they would promise to help faithfully the rest of the day.
I had bought at Maizeville Landing such provisions, tools, etc., as I should need immediately. Therefore I did not worry because the fickle March sky was clouding up again with the promise of rain. A heavy downpour now with snow upon the ground would cause almost a flood, but I felt that we could shut the door and find the old house a very comfortable ark.
A smart warm rain would be the best thing that could happen to yer, said Mr. Jones, as he helped me carry in furniture and put up beds; "it would take the snow off. Nat'rally you want to get out on the bare ground, for there's allus a lot of clearin' up to be done in the spring and old man Jamison was poorly last year and didn't keep things up to the mark."
Yes, I replied, "I am as eager to get to work outdoors as the boys were to go after rabbits. I believe I shall like the work, but that is not the question. I did not come to the country to amuse myself, like so many city people. I don't blame them; I wish I could afford farming for fun. I came to earn a living for my wife and children, and I am anxious to be about it. I won't ask you for anything except advice. I've only had a city training, and my theories about farming would perhaps make you smile. But I've seen enough of you already to feel that you are inclined to be kind and neighborly, and the best way to show this will be in helping me to good, sound, practical, common-sense advice. But you mustn't put on airs, or be impatient with me. Shrewd as you are, I could show you some things in the city."
Oh, I'd be a sight queerer there than you here. I see your p'int, and if you'll come to me I won't let you make no blunders I wouldn't make myself. Perhaps that ain't saying a great deal, though.
By this time everything had been brought in and either put in place or stowed out of the way, until my wife could decide where and how she would arrange things.
Now, I said, when we had finished, "carry out our agreement."
Mr. Jones gave me a wink and drove away.
Our agreement was this—first, that he and Mr. Rollins, the owner of the other team, should be paid in full before night; and second, that Mrs. Jones should furnish us our dinner, in which the chief dish should be a pot-pie from the rabbit caught by Merton, and that Mr. Jones should bring everything over at one o'clock.
My wife was so absorbed in unpacking her china, kitchen-utensils, and groceries that she was unaware of the flight of time, but at last she suddenly exclaimed, "I declare it's dinner-time!"
Not quite yet, I said; "dinner will be ready at one."
It will? Oh, indeed! Since we are in the country we are to pick up what we can, like the birds. You intend to invite us all down to the apple barrel, perhaps.
Certainly, whenever you wish to go; but we'll have a hot dinner at one o'clock, and a game dinner into the bargain.
I've heard the boys' guns occasionally, but I haven't seen the game, and it's after twelve now.
Papa has a secret—a surprise for us, cried Mousie; "I can see it in his eyes."
Now, Robert, I know what you've been doing. You have asked Mrs. Jones to furnish a dinner. You are extravagant, for I could have picked up something that would have answered.
No; I've been very prudent in saving your time and strength, and saving these is sometimes the best economy in the world. Mousie is nearer right. The dinner is a secret, and it has been furnished chiefly by one of the family.
Well, I'm too busy to guess riddles to-day; but if my appetite is a guide, it is nearly time we had your secret.
You would not feel like that after half an hour over a hot stove. Now you will be interrupted, in getting to rights, only long enough to eat your dinner. Then Mousie and Merton and Winnie will clear up everything, and be fore night you will feel settled enough to take things easy till to-morrow.
I know your thoughtfulness for me, if not your secret, she said, gratefully, and was again putting things where, from housewifely experience, she knew they would be handy.
Mr. and Mrs. Jamison had clung to their old-fashioned ways, and had done their cooking over the open fire, using the swinging crane which is now employed chiefly in pictures. This, for the sake of the picture it made, we proposed to keep as it had been left, although at times it might answer some more prosaic purpose.
At the eastern end of the house was a single room, added unknown years ago, and designed to be a bed-chamber. Of late it had been used as a general storage and lumber room, and when I first inspected the house, I had found little in this apartment of service to us. So I had asked Mr. Jones to remove all that I did not care for, and to have the room cleansed, satisfied that it would just suit my wife as a kitchen. It was large, having windows facing the east and south, and therefore it would be light and cheerful, as a kitchen ever should be, especially when the mistress of the house is cook. There Mr. Jones and I set up the excellent stove that I had brought from New York—one to which my wife was accustomed, and from which she could conjure a rare good dinner when she gave her mind to it. Now as she moved back and forth, in such sunlight as the clouding sky permitted, she appeared the picture of pleased content.
It cheers one up to enter a kitchen like this, she said.
It is to be your garden for a time also, I exclaimed to Mousie. "I shall soon have by this east window a table with shallow boxes of earth, and in them you can plant some of your flower-seeds. I only ask that I may have two of the boxes for early cabbages, lettuce, tomatoes, etc. You and your plants can take a sun-bath every morning until it is warm, enough to go out of doors, and you'll find the plants won't die here as they did in the dark, gas-poisoned city flat."
I feel as if I were going to grow faster and stronger than the plants, cried the happy child.
Junior and Merton now appeared, each carrying a rabbit. My boy's face, however, was clouded, and he said, a little despondently, "I can't shoot straight—missed every time; and Junior shot 'em after I had fired and missed."
Pshaw! cried Junior; "Merton's got to learn to take a quick steady sight, like every one else. He gets too excited."
That's just it, my boy, I said. "You shall go down by the creek and fire at a mark a few times every day, and you'll soon hit it every time. Junior's head is too level to think that anything can be done well without practice. Now, Junior," I added, "run over home and help your father bring us our dinner, and then you stay and help us eat it."
Father and son soon appeared, well laden. Winnie and Bobsey came in ravenous from their path-making, and all agreed that we had already grown one vigorous rampant Maizeville crop—an appetite.
The pot-pie was exulted over, and the secret of its existence explained. Even Junior laughed till the tears came as I described him, his father, and Merton, floundering through the deep snow after the rabbit, and we all congratulated Merton as the one who had provided our first country dinner.
Before the meal was over, I said, seriously, "Now, boys, there must be no more hunting until I find out about the game-laws. They should be obeyed, especially by sportsmen. I don't think that we are forbidden to kill rabbits on our own place, particularly when they threaten to be troublesome; and the hunt this morning was so unexpected that I did not think of the law, which might be used to make us trouble. You killed the other rabbits on this place, Junior?"
Yes, sir, both of 'em.
Well, hereafter you must look after hawks, and other enemies of poultry. Especially do I hope you will never fire at our useful song-birds. If boys throughout the country would band together to protect game when out of season, they would soon have fine sport in the autumn.
In the afternoon we let Winnie and Bobsey expend their energy in making paths and lanes in every direction through the snow, which was melting rapidly in the south wind. By three o'clock the rain began to fall, and when darkness set in there was a gurgling sound of water on every side. Our crackling fire made the warmth and comfort within seem tenfold more cheery.
A hearty supper, prepared in our own kitchen, made us feel that our home machinery had fairly started, and we knew that it would run more and more smoothly. March was keeping up its bad name for storm and change. The wind was again roaring, but laden now with rain, and in gusty sheets the heavy drops dashed against the windows. But our old house kept us dry and safe, although it rocked a little in the blasts. They soon proved a lullaby for our second night at home.
After breakfast the following morning, with Merton, Winnie, and Bobsey, I started out to see if any damage had been done. The sky was still clouded, but the rain had ceased. Our rubber boots served us well, for the earth was like an over-full sponge, while down every little incline and hollow a stream was murmuring.
The old barn showed the need of a good many nails to be driven here and there, and a deal of mending. Then it would answer for corn-stalks and other coarse fodder. The new barn had been fairly built, and the interior was dry. It still contained as much hay as would be needed for the keeping of a horse and cow until the new crop should be harvested.
Papa, cried Winnie, "where is the chicken place?"
That is one of the questions we must settle at once, I replied. "As we were coming out I saw an old coop in the orchard. We'll go and look at it."
It was indeed old and leaky, and had poultry been there the previous night they would have been half drowned on their perches. "This might do for a summer cottage for your chickens, Winnie," I continued, "but never for a winter house. Let us go back to the barn, for I think I remember a place that will just suit, with some changes."
Now the new barn had been built on a hillside, and had an ample basement, from which a room extending well into the bank had been partitioned, thus promising all one could desire as a cellar for apples and roots. The entrance to this basement faced the east, and on each side of it was a window. To the right of the entrance were two cow-stalls, and to the left was an open space half full of mouldy corn-stalks and other rubbish.
See here, Winnie and Merton, I said, after a little examination, "I think we could clear out this space on the left, partition it off, make a door, and keep the chickens here. After that window is washed, a good deal of sunlight can come in. I've read that in cold weather poultry need warmth and light, and must be kept dry. Here we can secure all these conditions. Having a home for ourselves, suppose we set to work to make a home for the chickens."
This idea delighted Winnie, and pleased Merton almost as much as hunting rabbits. "Now," I resumed, "we will go to the house and get what we need for the work."
Winifred, I said to my wife, "can you let Winnie have a small pail of hot water and some old rags?"
What are you up to now?
You know all about cleaning house; we are going to clean barn, and make a place for Winnie's chickens. There is a window in their future bedroom—roost-room I suppose I should call it—that looks as if it had never been washed, and to get off the dust of years will be Winnie's task, while Merton, Bobsey, and I create an interior that should satisfy a knowing hen. We'll make nests, too, children, that will suggest to the biddies that they should proceed at once to business.
But where are the chickens to come from? my wife asked, as she gave the pan to Merton to carry for his sister.
Oh, John Jones will put me in the way of getting them soon; and we started out to our morning's work. Mousie looked after us wistfully, but her mother soon found light tasks for her, and she too felt that she was helping. "Remember, Mousie," I said, in parting, "that I have three helpers, and surely mamma needs one;" and she was content.
Merton at first was for pitching all the old corn-stalks out into the yard, but I said: "That won't do. We shall need a cow as well as chickens, and these stalks must be kept dry for her bedding. We'll pile them up in the inner empty stall. You can help at that, Bobsey;" and we set to work.
Under Winnie's quick hands more and more light came through the window. With a fork I lifted and shook up the stalks, and the boys carried them to the empty stall. At last we came to rubbish that was so damp and decayed that it would be of no service indoors, so we placed it on a barrow and I wheeled it out to one corner of the yard. At last we came down to a hard earth floor, and with a hoe this was cleared and made smooth.
Merton, I said, "I saw an old broom upstairs. Run and get it, and we'll brush down the cobwebs and sweep out, and then we shall be ready to see about the partition."
By eleven o'clock we had all the basement cleaned except the one cow-stall that was filled to the ceiling with litter; and Winnie had washed the windows. Then John Jones's lank figure darkened the doorway, and he cried, "Hello, neighbor, what ye drivin' at?"
Look around and see, and then tell us where to get a lot of chickens.
Well, I declare! How you've slicked things up! You're not goin' to scrub the dirt floor, are you? Well, well, this looks like business—just the place for chickens. Wonder old man Jamison didn't keep 'em here; but he didn't care for fowls. Now I think of it, there's to be a vandoo the first of the week, and there was a lot o' chickens printed on the poster.
I smiled.
Oh, I don't mean that the chickens themselves was on the poster, but a statement that a lot would be sold at auction. I'll bid 'em in for you if they're a good lot. If you, a city chap, was to bid, some straw-bidder would raise 'em agin you. I know what they're wuth, and everybody there'll know I do, and they'll try no sharp games with me.
That will suit me exactly, Mr. Jones. I don't want any game-fowls of that kind.
Ha, ha! I see the p'int. Have you looked into the root-cellar?
Yes; we opened the door and looked, but it was dark as a pocket.
Well, I don't b'lieve in matches around a barn, but I'll show you something; and he opened the door, struck a match, and, holding it aloft, revealed a heap of turnips, another of carrots, five barrels of potatoes, and three of apples. The children pounced upon the last with appetites sharpened by their morning's work.
You see, resumed Mr. Jones, "these were here when old man Jamison died. If I hadn't sold the place I should have taken them out before long, and got rid of what I didn't want. Now you can have the lot at a low figure," which he named.
I'll take them, I said, promptly.
The carrots make it look like a gold-mine, cried Merton.
Well, you're wise, resumed Mr. Jones. "You'll have to get a cow and a horse, and here's fodder for 'em handy. Perhaps I can pick 'em out for you, too, at the vandoo. You can go along, and if anything strikes your fancy I'll bid on it."
O papa, cried the children, in chorus, "can we go with you to the vandoo?"
Yes, I think so. When does the sale take place?
Next Tuesday. That's a good breed of potatoes. Jamison allus had the best of everything. They'll furnish you with seed, and supply your table till new ones come. I guess you could sell a barrel or so of apples at a rise.
I've found a market for them already. Look at these children; and I'm good for half a barrel myself if they don't decay too soon. Where could we find better or cheaper food? All the books say that apples are fattening.
That's true of man and beast, if the books do say it. They'll keep in this cool, dark cellar longer than you'd think—longer than you'll let 'em, from the way they're disappearin'. I guess I'll try one.
Certainly, a dozen, just as if they were still yours.
They wasn't mine—they belonged to the Jamison estate. I'll help myself now quicker'n I would before. I might come it over a live man, you know, but not a dead one.
I'd trust you with either.
While I was laughing at this phase of honesty, he resumed: "This is the kind of place to keep apples—cool, dry, dark, even temperature. Why, they're as crisp and juicy as if just off the trees. I came over to make a suggestion. There's a lot of sugar-maple trees on your place, down by the brook. Why not tap 'em, and set a couple of pots b'ilin' over your open fire? You'd kill two birds with one stone; the fire'd keep you warm, and make a lot of sugar in the bargain. I opinion, too, the children would like the fun."
They were already shouting over the idea, but I said dubiously, "How about the pails to catch the sap?"
Well, said Mr. Jones, "I've thought of that. We've a lot of spare milk-pails and pans, that we're not usin'. Junior understands the business; and, as we're not very busy, he can help you and take his pay in sugar."
The subject of poultry was forgotten; and the children scampered off to the house to tell of this new project.
Before Mr. Jones and I left the basement, he said: "You don't want any partition here at present, only a few perches for the fowls. There's a fairish shed, you remember, in the upper barnyard, and when 'tain't very cold or stormy the cow will do well enough there from this out. The weather'll be growin' milder 'most every day, and in rough spells you can put her in here. Chickens won't do her any harm. Law sakes! when the main conditions is right, what's the use of havin' everything jes' so? It's more important to save your time and strength and money. You'll find enough to do without one stroke that ain't needful." Thus John Jones fulfilled his office of mentor.
I restrained the children until after dinner, which my wife hastened. By that time Junior was on hand with a small wagon-load of pails and pans.
Oh, dear, I wanted you to help me this afternoon, my wife had said, but, seeing the dismayed look on the children's faces, had added, "Well, there's no hurry, I suppose. We are comfortable, and we shall have stormy days when you can't be out."
I told her that she was wiser than the queen of Sheba and did not need to go to Solomon.
The horse was put in the barn, for he would have mired in the long spongy lane and the meadow which we must cross. So we decided to run the light wagon down by hand.
Junior had the auger with which to bore holes in the trees. "I tapped 'em last year, as old Mr. Jamison didn't care about doin' it," said the boy, "an' I b'iled the pot of sap down in the grove; but that was slow, cold work. I saved the little wooden troughs I used last year, and they are in one of the pails. I brought over a big kittle, too, which mother let me have, and if we can keep this and yours a-goin', we'll soon have some sugar."
Away we went, down the lane, Junior and Merton in the shafts, playing horses. I pushed in some places, and held back in others, while Winnie and Bobsey picked their way between puddles and quagmires. The snow was so nearly gone that it lay only on the northern slopes. We had heard the deep roar of the Moodna Creek all the morning, and had meant to go and see it right after breakfast; but providing a chickenhome had proved a greater attraction to the children, and a better investment of time for me. Now from the top of the last hillside we saw a great flood rushing by with a hoarse, surging noise.
Winnie, Bobsey, if you go near the water without me you march straight home, I cried.
They promised never to go, but I thought Bobsey protested a little too much. Away we went down the hill, skirting what was now a good-sized brook. I knew the trees, from a previous visit; and the maple, when once known, can be picked out anywhere, so genial, mellow, and generous an aspect has it, even when leafless.
The roar of the creek and the gurgle of the brook made genuine March music, and the children looked and acted as if there were nothing left to be desired. When Junior showed them a tree that appeared to be growing directly out of a flat rock, they expressed a wonder which no museum could have excited.
But scenery, and even rural marvels, could not keep their attention long. All were intent on sap and sugar, and Junior was speedily at work. The moment he broke the brittle, juicy bark, the tree's life-blood began to flow.
See, he cried, "they are like cows wanting to be milked."
As fast as he inserted his little wooden troughs into the trees, we placed pails and pans under them, and began harvesting the first crop from our farm.
This was rather slow work, and to keep Winnie and Bobsey busy I told them they could gather sticks and leaves, pile them up at the foot of a rock on a dry hillside, and we would have a fire. I meanwhile picked up the dead branches that strewed the ground, and with my axe trimmed them for use in summer, when only a quick blaze would be needed to boil the supper kettle. To city-bred eyes wood seemed a rare luxury, and although there was enough lying about to supply us for a year, I could not get over the feeling that it must all be cared for.
To children there are few greater delights than that of building a fire in the woods, and on that cloudy, chilly day our blaze against the rock brought solid comfort to us all, even though the smoke did get into our eyes. Winnie and Bobsey, little bundles of energy that they were, seemed unwearied in feeding the flames, while Merton sought to hide his excitement by imitating Junior's stolid, business-like ways.
Finding him alone once, I said: "Merton, don't you remember saying to me once, 'I'd like to know what there is for a boy to do in this street'? Don't you think there's something for a boy to do on this farm?"
O papa! he cried, "I'm just trying to hold in. So much has happened, and I've had such a good time, that it seems as if I had been here a month; then again the hours pass like minutes. See, the sun is low already."
It's all new and exciting now, Merton, but there will be long hours—yes, days and weeks—when you'll have to act like a man, and to do work because it ought to be done and must be done.
The same would be true if we stayed in town, he said.
Soon I decided that it was time for the younger children to return, for I meant to give my wife all the help I could before bedtime. We first hauled the wagon back, and then Merton said he would bring what sap had been caught. Junior had to go home for a time to do his evening "chores," but he promised to return before dark to help carry in the sap.
There'll be frost to-night, and we'll get the biggest run in the morning, was his encouraging remark, as he made ready to depart.
Mrs. Jones had been over to see my wife, and they promised to become good friends. I set to work putting things in better shape, and bringing in a good pile of wood. Merton soon appeared with a brimming pail. A kettle was hung on the crane, but before the sap was placed over the fire all must taste it, just as it had been distilled by nature. And all were quickly satisfied. Even Mousie said it was "too watery," and Winnie made a face as she exclaimed, "I declare, Merton, I believe you filled the pails from the brook!"
Patience, youngsters; sap, as well as some other things, is better for boiling down.
Oh what a remarkable truth! said my wife, who never lost a chance to give me a little dig.
I laughed, and then stood still in the middle of the floor, lost in thought.
A brown study! What theory have you struck now, Robert?
I was thinking how some women kept their husbands in love with them by being saucy. It's an odd way, and yet it seems effective.
It depends upon the kind of sauce, Robert, she said with a knowing glance and a nod.
By the time it was dark, we had both the kettles boiling and bubbling over the fire, and fine music they made. With Junior for guest, we enjoyed our supper, which consisted principally of baked apples and milk.
'Bubble, bubble,' 'Toil' and no 'trouble'—
Yet, worth speaking of, said my wife; "but it must come, I suppose."
We won't go half-way to meet it, Winifred.
When the meal was over, Junior went out on the porch and returned with a mysterious sack.
Butternuts! he ejaculated.
Junior was winning his way truly, and in the children's eyes was already a good genius, as his father was in mine.
O papa! was the general cry, "can't we crack them on the hearth?"
But you'll singe your very eyebrows off, I said.
Mine's so white 'twouldn't matter, said Junior; "nobody'd miss 'em.
Give me a hammer, and I'll keep you goin'."
And he did, on one of the stones of the hearth, with such a lively rat-tat-snap! that it seemed a regular rhythm.
Cracked in my life well-nigh on to fifty bushel, I guess, he explained, in answer to our wonder at his skill.
And so the evening passed, around the genial old fireplace; and before the children retired they smacked their lips over sirup sweet enough to satisfy them.
The following morning—Saturday—I vibrated between the sugar-camp and the barn and other out-buildings, giving, however, most of the time to the help of my wife in getting the house more to her mind, and in planning some work that would require a brief visit from a carpenter; for I felt that I must soon bestow nearly all my attention on the outdoor work. I managed to keep Bobsey under my eye for the most part, and in the afternoon I left him for only a few moments at the sugar-bush while I carried up some sap. A man called to see me on business, and I was detained. Knowing the little fellow's proneness to mischief, and forgetfulness of all commands, I at last hastened back with a half guilty and worried feeling.
I reached the brow of the hill just in time to see him throw a stick into the creek, lose his balance, and fall in.
With an exclamation of terror, his own cry forming a faint echo, I sprang forward frantically, but the swift current caught and bore him away.
My agonized shout as I saw Bobsey swept away by the swollen current of the Moodna Creek was no more prompt than his own shrill scream. It so happened, or else a kind Providence so ordered it, that Junior was further down the stream, tapping a maple that had been overlooked the previous day. He sprang to his feet, whirled around in the direction of the little boy's cry, with the quickness of thought rushed to the bank and plunged in with a headlong leap like a Newfoundland dog. I paused, spellbound, to watch him, knowing that I was much too far away to be of aid, and that all now depended on the hardy country lad. He disappeared for a second beneath the tide, and then his swift strokes proved that he was a good swimmer. In a moment or two he caught up with Bobsey, for the current was too swift to permit the child to sink. Then, with a wisdom resulting from experience, he let the torrent carry him in a long slant toward the shore, for it would have been hopeless to try to stem the tide. Running as I never ran before, I followed, reached the bank where there was an eddy in the stream, sprang in up to my waist, seized them both as they approached and dragged them to solid ground. Merton and Winnie meanwhile stood near with white, scared faces.
Bobsey was conscious, although he had swallowed some water, and I was soon able to restore him, so that he could stand on his feet and cry: "I—I—I w-won't d-do so any—any more."
Instead of punishing him, which he evidently expected, I clasped him to my heart with a nervous force that almost made him cry out with pain.
Junior, meanwhile, had coolly seated himself on a rock, emptied the water out of his shoes, and was tying them on again, at the same time striving with all his might to maintain a stolid composure under Winnie's grateful embraces and Merton's interrupting hand-shakings. But when, having become assured of Bobsey's safety, I rushed forward and embraced Junior in a transport of gratitude, his lip began to quiver and two great tears mingled with the water that was dripping from his hair. Suddenly he broke away, took to his heels, and ran toward his home, as if he had been caught in some mischief and the constable were after him. I believe that he would rather have had at once all the strappings his father had ever given him than to have cried in our presence.
I carried Bobsey home, and his mother, with many questionings and exclamations of thanksgiving, undressed the little fellow, wrapped him in flannel, and put him to bed, where he was soon sleeping as quietly as if nothing had happened.
Mrs. Jones came over, and we made her rubicund face beam and grow more round, if possible, as we all praised her boy. I returned with her, for I felt that I wished to thank Junior again and again. But he saw me coming, and slipped out at the back door. Indeed, the brave, bashful boy was shy of us for several days. When at last my wife got hold of him, and spoke to him in a manner natural to mothers, he pooh-poohed the whole affair.
I've swum in that crick so often that it was nothin' to me. I only had to keep cool, and that was easy enough in snow water, and the swift current would keep us both up. I wish you wouldn't say anything more about it. It kinder makes me feel—I don't know how—all over, you know.
But Junior soon learned that we had adopted him into our inmost hearts, although he compelled us to show our good-will after his own off-hand fashion.
Sunday was ushered in with another storm, and we spent a long, quiet, restful day, our hearts full of thankfulness that the great sorrow, which might have darkened the beginning of our country life, had been so happily averted.
On Sunday night the wind veered around to the north, and on Monday morning the sky had a clear metallic hue and the ground was frozen hard. Bobsey had not taken cold, and was his former self, except that he was somewhat chastened in spirit and his bump of caution was larger. I was resolved that the day should witness a good beginning of our spring work, and told Winnie and Bobsey that they could help me. Junior, although he yet avoided the house, was ready enough to help Merton with the sap. Therefore soon after breakfast we all were busy.
Around old country places, especially where there has been some degree of neglect, much litter gathers. This was true of our new home and its surroundings. All through the garden were dry, unsightly weeds, about the house was shrubbery that had become tangled masses of unpruned growth, in the orchard the ground was strewn with fallen branches, and I could see dead limbs on many of the trees.
Therefore I said to my two little helpers: "Here in this open space in the garden we will begin our brush-pile, and we will bring to it all the refuse that we wish to burn. You see that we can make an immense heap, for the place is so far away from any buildings that, when the wind goes down, we can set the pile on fire in safety, and the ashes will do the garden good."
During the whole forenoon I pruned the shrubbery, and raked up the rubbish which the children carried by armfuls to our prospective bonfire. They soon wished to see the blaze, but I told them that the wind was too high, and that I did not propose to apply the match until we had a heap half as big as the house; that it might be several days before we should be ready, for I intended to have a tremendous fire.
Thus with the lesson of restraint was given the hope of something wonderful. For a long time they were pleased with the novelty of the work, and then they wanted to do something else, but I said: "No, no; you are gardeners now, and I'm head gardener. You must both help me till dinner-time. After that you can do something else, or play if you choose; but each day, even Bobsey must do some steady work to earn his dinner. We didn't come to the country on a picnic, I can tell you. All must do their best to help make a living;" and so without scruple I kept my little squad busy, for the work was light, although it had become monotonous.
Mousie sometimes aided her mother, and again watched us from the window with great interest. I rigged upon the barrow a rack, in which I wheeled the rubbish gathered at a distance; and by the time my wife's mellow voice called, "Come to dinner"—how sweet her voice and summons were after long hours in the keen March wind!—we had a pile much higher than my head, and the place began to wear a tidy aspect.
Such appetites, such red cheeks and rosy noses as the outdoor workers brought to that plain meal! Mousie was much pleased with the promise that the bonfire should not be lighted until some still, mild day when she could go out and stand with me beside it.
Merton admitted that gathering the sap did not keep him busy more than half the time; so after dinner I gave him a hatchet, and told him to go on with the trimming out of the fallen branches in our wood lot—a task that I had begun—and to carry all wood heavy enough for our fireplace to a spot where it could be put into a wagon.
Your next work, Merton, will be to collect all your refuse trimmings, and the brush lying about, into a few great heaps; and by and by we'll burn these, too, and gather up the ashes carefully, for I've read and heard all my life that there is nothing better for fruit then wood-ashes. Some day, I hope, we can begin to put money in the bank; for I intend to give all a chance to earn money for themselves, after they have done their share toward our general effort to live and thrive. The next best thing to putting money in the bank is the gathering and saving of everything that will make the ground richer. In fact, all the papers and books that I've read this winter agree that as the farmer's land grows rich he grows rich.
It must be remembered that I had spent all my leisure during the winter in reading and studying the problem of our country life. Therefore I knew that March was the best month for pruning trees, and I had gained a fairly correct idea how to do this work. Until within the last two or three years of his life, old Mr. Jamison had attended to this task quite thoroughly; and thus little was left for me beyond sawing away the boughs that had recently died, and cutting out the useless sprouts on the larger limbs. Before leaving the city I had provided myself with such tools as I was sure I should need; and finding a ladder under a shed, I attacked the trees vigorously. The wind had almost died out, and I knew I must make the most of all still days in this gusty month. After playing around for a time, Winnie and Bobsey concluded that gathering and piling up my prunings would be as good fun as anything else; and so I had helpers again.
By the middle of the afternoon Mr. Jones appeared, and I was glad to see him, for there were some kinds of work about which I wanted his advice. At one end of the garden were several rows of blackcap raspberry bushes, which had grown into an awful snarl. The old canes that had borne fruit the previous season were still standing, ragged and unsightly; the new stalks that would bear the coming season sprawled in every direction; and I had found that many tips of the branches had grown fast in the ground. I took my neighbor to see this briery wilderness, and asked his advice.
Have you got a pair of pruning-nippers? he asked.
Before going to the house to get them, I blew a shrill whistle to summon Merton, for I wished him also to hear all that Mr. Jones might say. I carried a little metallic whistle one blast on which was for Merton, two for Winnie, and three for Bobsey. When they heard this call they were to come as fast as their feet could carry them.
Taking the nippers, Mr. Jones snipped off from one-third to one-half the length of the branches from one of the bushes and cut out the old dead cane.
I raise these berries myself for home use, he said; "and I can tell you they go nice with milk for a July supper. You see, after taking off so much from these long branches the canes stand straight up, and will be self-supporting, no matter how many berries they bear; but here and there's a bush that has grown slant-wise, or is broken off. Now, if I was you, I'd take a crow-bar 'n' make a hole 'longside these weakly and slantin' fellers, put in a stake, and tie 'em up strong. Then, soon as the frost yields, if you'll get out the grass and weeds that's started among 'em, you'll have a dozen bushel or more of marketable berries from this 'ere wilderness, as you call it. Give Merton a pair of old gloves, and he can do most of the job. Every tip that's fast in the ground is a new plant. If you want to set out another patch, I'll show you how later on."
I think I know pretty nearly how to do that.
Yes, yes, I know. Books are a help, I s'pose, but after you've seen one plant set out right, you'll know more than if you'd 'a' read a month.
Well, now that you're here, Mr. Jones, I'm going to make the most of you. How about those other raspberries off to the southeast of the house?
Those are red ones. Let's take a look at 'em.
Having reached the patch, we found almost as bad a tangle as in the blackcap patch, except that the canes were more upright in their growth and less full of spines or briers.
It's plain enough, continued Mr. Jones, "that old man Jamison was too poorly to take much care of things last year. You see, these red raspberries grow different from those black ones yonder. Those increase by the tips of the branches takin' root; these by suckers. All these young shoots comin' up between the rows are suckers, and they ought to be dug out. As I said before, you can set them out somewhere else if you want to. Dig 'em up, you know; make a trench in some out-of-the-way place, and bury the roots till you want 'em. Like enough the neighbors will buy some if they know you have 'em to spare. Only be sure to cut these long canes back to within six inches of the ground."
Yes, I said, "that's all just as I have read in the books."
So much the better for the books, then. I haven't lived in this fruit-growin' region all my life without gettin' some ideas as to what's what. I give my mind to farmin'; but Jamison and I were great cronies, and I used to be over here every day or two, and so it's natural to keep comin'.
That's my good luck.
Well, p'raps it'll turn out so. Now Merton's just the right age to help you in all this work. Jamison, you see, grew these raspberries in a continuous bushy row; that is, say, three good strong canes every eighteen inches apart in the row, and the rows five feet apart, so he could run a horse-cultivator between. Are you catchin' on, Merton?
Yes, sir, said the boy, with much interest.
Well, all these suckers and extra plants that are swampin' the ground are just as bad as weeds. Dig 'em all out, only don't disturb the roots of the bearin' canes you leave in the rows much.
How about trimming these? I asked.
Well, that depends. If you want early fruit, you'll let 'em stand as they be; if you want big berries, you'll cut 'em back one-third. Let me see. Here's five rows of Highland Hardy; miserable poor-tastin' kind; but they come so early that they often pay the best. Let them stand with their whole length of cane, and if you can scatter a good top-dressin' of fine manure scraped up from the barnyard, you'll make the berries larger. Those other rows of Cuthbert, Reliance, and Turner, cut back the canes one-third, and you'll get a great deal more fruit than if you left more wood on 'em. Cuttin' back'll make the berries big; and so they'll bring as much, p'raps, as if they were early.
Well, Merton, this all accords with what I've read, only Mr. Jones makes it much clearer. I think we know how to go to work now, and surely there's plenty to do.
Yes, indeed, resumed Mr. Jones; "and you'll soon find the work crowdin' you. Now come to the big raspberry patch back of the barn, the patch where the canes are all laid down, as I told you. These are Hudson River Antwerps. Most people have gone out of 'em, but Jamison held on, and he was makin' money on 'em. So may you. They are what we call tender, you see, and in November they must be bent down close to the ground and covered with earth, or else every cane would be dead from frost by spring. About the first week in April, if the weather's mild, you must uncover 'em, and tie 'em to stakes durin' the month."
Now, Mr. Jones, one other good turn and we won't bother you any more to-day. All the front of the house is covered by two big grape-vines that have not been trimmed, and there are a great many other vines on the place. I've read and read on the subject, but I declare I'm afraid to touch them.
Now, you're beyond my depth. I've got a lot of vines home, and I trim 'em in my rough way, but I know I ain't scientific, and we have pretty poor, scraggly bunches. They taste just as good, though, and I don't raise any to sell. There's a clever man down near the landin' who has a big vineyard, and he's trimmed it as your vines ought to have been long ago. I'd advise you to go and see him, and he can show you all the latest wrinkles in prunin'. Now, I'll tell you what I come for, in the first place. You'll remember that I said there'd be a vandoo to-morrow. I've been over and looked at the stock offered. There's a lot of chickens, as I told you; a likely-looking cow with a calf at her side; a fairish and quiet old horse that ought to go cheap, but he'd answer well the first year. Do you think you'll get more'n one horse to start with?
No; you said I could hire such heavy plowing as was needed at a moderate sum, and I think we can get along with one horse for a time. My plan is to go slow, and, I hope, sure.
That's the best way, only it ain't common. I'll be around in the mornin' for you and such of the children as you'll take.
On one condition, Mr. Jones. You must let me pay you for your time and trouble. Unless you'll do this in giving me my start, I'll have to paddle my own canoe, even if I sink it.
Oh, I've no grudge against an honest penny turned in any way that comes handy. You and I can keep square as we go along. You can give me what you think is right, and if I ain't satisfied, I'll say so.
I soon learned that my neighbor had no foolish sensitiveness. I could pay him what I thought the value of his services, and he pocketed the money without a word. Of course, I could not pay him what his advice was really worth, for his hard common-sense stood me in good stead in many ways.
The next morning at about eight o'clock Mr. Jones arrived in a long farm-wagon on springs, with one seat in it; but Junior had half filled its body with straw, and he said to Merton, "I thought that p'raps, if you and the children could go, you'd like a straw-ride."
The solemnity with which Winnie and Bobsey promised to obey orders gave some hope of performance; so I tossed them into the straw, and we drove away, a merry party, leaving Mousie consoled with the hope of receiving something from the vendue.
There's allers changes and breakin's up in the spring, said Mr. Jones, as we drove along; "and this family's goin' out West. Everything is to be sold, in doors and out."
The farmhouse in question was about two miles away. By the time we arrived, all sorts of vehicles were converging to it on the muddy roads, for the weather had become mild again. Stylish-looking people drove up in top-buggies, and there were many heavy, springless wagons driven by rusty-looking countrymen, whose trousers were thrust into the top of their cowhide boots. I strolled through the house before the sale began, thinking that I might find something there which would please Mousie and my wife. The rooms were already half filled with the housewives from the vicinity; red-faced Irish women, who stalked about and examined everything with great freedom; placid, peach-cheeked dames in Quaker bonnets, who softly cooed together, and took every chance they could to say pleasant words to the flurried, nervous family that was being thrust out into the world, as it were, while still at their own hearth.
I marked with my eye a low, easy sewing-chair for my wife, and a rose geranium, full of bloom, for Mousie, purposing to bid on them. I also observed that Junior was examining several pots of flowers that stood in the large south window. Then giving Merton charge of the children, with directions not to lose sight of them a moment, I went to the barn-yard and stable, feeling that the day was a critical one in our fortunes. True enough, among the other stock there was a nice-looking cow with a calf, and Mr. Jones said she had Jersey blood in her veins. This meant rich, creamy milk. I thought the animal had a rather ugly eye, but this might be caused by anxiety for her calf, with so many strangers about. We also examined the old bay horse and a market wagon and harness. Then Mr. Jones and I drew apart and agreed upon the limit of his bids, for I proposed to act solely through him. Every one knew him and was aware that he would not go a cent beyond what a thing was worth. He had a word and a jest for all, and "How ARE YOU, JOHN?" greeted him wherever he went.
At ten o'clock the sale began. The auctioneer was a rustic humorist, who knew the practical value of a joke in his business. Aware of the foibles and characteristics of the people who flocked around and after him, he provoked many a ripple and roar of laughter by his telling hits and droll speeches. I found that my neighbor, Mr. Jones, came in for his full share, but he always sent back as good as he received. The sale, in fact, had the aspect of a country merrymaking, at which all sorts and conditions of people met on common ground, Pat bidding against the best of the landed gentry, while boys and dogs innumerable played around and sometimes verged on serious quarrels.
Junior, I observed, left his mark before the day was over. He was standing, watching the sale with his usual impassive expression, when a big, hulking fellow leered into his face and cried.
Tow head, white-head, Thick-head, go to bed.
The last word was scarcely out of his mouth before Junior's fist was between his eyes, and down he went.
Want any more? Junior coolly asked, as the fellow got up.
Evidently he didn't, for he slunk off, followed by jeers and laughter.
At noon there was an immense pot of coffee with crackers and cheese, placed on a table near the kitchen door, and we had a free lunch. To this Bobsey paid his respects so industriously that a great, gawky mountaineer looked down at him and said, with a grin, "I say, young 'un, you're gettin' outside of more fodder than any critter of your size I ever knowed."
'Tain't your fodder, replied Bobsey, who had learned, in the streets, to be a little pert.
The day came to an end at last, and the cow and calf, the old bay horse, the wagon, and the harness were mine. On the whole, Mr. Jones had bought them at reasonable rates. He also bid in for me, at one dollar per pair, two cocks and twenty hens that looked fairly well in their coop.
For my part, I had secured the chair and blooming geranium. To my surprise, when the rest of the flowers were sold, Junior took part in the bidding for the first time, and, as a result, carried out to the wagon several other pots of house-plants.
Why, Junior, I said, "I didn't know you had such an eye for beauty."
He blushed, but made no reply.
The chickens and the harness were put into Mr. Jones's conveyance, the wagon I had bought was tied on behind, and we jogged homeward, the children exulting over our new possessions. When I took in the geranium bush and put it on the table by the sunny kitchen window, Junior followed with an armful of his plants.
They're for Mousie, he said; and before the delighted child could thank him, he darted out.
Indeed, it soon became evident that Mousie was Junior's favorite. She never said much to him, but she looked a great deal. To the little invalid girl he seemed the embodiment of strength and cleverness, and, perhaps because he was so strong, his sympathies went out toward the feeble child.
The coop of chickens was carried to the basement that we had made ready, and Winnie declared that she meant to "hear the first crow and get the first egg."
The next day the horse and the cow and calf were brought over, and we felt that we were fairly launched in our country life.
You have a bigger family to look after outdoors than I have indoors, my wife said, laughingly.
I was not long in learning that some of my outdoor family were anything but amiable. The two cocks fought and fought until Junior, who had run over before night, showed Merton that by ducking their heads in cold water their belligerent spirit could be partially quenched. Then he proceeded to give me a lesson in milking. The calf was shut up away from the cow, which was driven into a corner, where she stood with signs of impatience while Junior, seated on a three-legged stool, essayed to obtain the nectar we all so dearly loved. At first he did not succeed very well.
She won't let it down—she's keepin' it for the calf, said the boy.
But at last she relented, and the white streams flowed. "Now," said
Junior to me, "you see how I do it. You try."
As I took his place, I noticed that Brindle turned on me a vicious look. No doubt I was awkward and hurt her a little, also; for the first thing I knew the pail was in the air, I on my back, and Brindle bellowing around the yard, switching her tail, Junior and Merton meanwhile roaring with laughter. I got up in no amiable mood and said, roughly, to the boys, "Quit that nonsense."
But they couldn't obey, and at last I had to join in the laugh.
Why, she's ugly as sin, said Junior. "I'll tell you what to do. Let her go with her calf now, and in the morning we'll drive her down to one of the stalls in the basement of the barn and fasten her by the head. Then we can milk her without risk. After her calf is gone she'll be a great deal tamer."
This plan was carried out, and it worked pretty well, although it was evident that, from some cause, the cow was wild and vicious. One of my theories is, that all animals can be subdued by kindness. Mr. Jones advised me to dispose of Brindle, but I determined to test my theory first. Several times a day I would go to the barn-yard and give her a carrot or a whisp of hay from my hand, and she gradually became accustomed to me, and would come at my call. A week later I sold her calf to a butcher, and for a few days she lowed and mourned deeply, to Mousie's great distress. But carrots consoled her, and within three weeks she would let me stroke her, and both Merton and I could milk her without trouble. I believe she had been treated harshly by her former owners.