Chapter 8

"No," said Bob, "but it might get to be a habit with him, and you know, according to Aunt Bettie's figures, the sand is going to help a lot in getting our loan paid off quickly at the bank."

"Well, the next time I go to town, I'll see who I can find," he replied.

"You know, Uncle Joe, if we had a telephone we could call up this morning and probably have a man out here by noon. Don't you think Aunt Bettie was right in wanting to have a 'phone?"

"Oh, that's been taken care of," said his uncle. "I told Bettie to go ahead and have it put in. I thought it would be nice to be able to call up our friends in town and talk to them on rainy days and Sundays when we didn't want to drive in. Besides, as you say, it will be useful at times to save trips."

They spent the morning repairing the fences, which, under their persistent work, were beginning to look like real fences again.

There was one thing about Joe Williams--whatever he did, he did thoroughly, and the undergrowth was cut from both sides, heaped into piles and burned.

"Do you know, Uncle Joe, if we had wire fences, on concrete posts, we'd never have any work like this to do each spring. The plows would keep the sides clean. Think of what it would mean, Uncle Joe, to get rid of fence rows and repairing old rail fences. Then there's the wasted land that the fence takes up; that's a dead loss."

"Yes, I can easily see that," replied his uncle. "Bettie was talking about that last night."

They had worked all morning and were on their way to the house to dinner when they saw a man coming across the fields toward them. He came from the direction of the farm above, and as he approached they saw he was a youthful foreign-looking chap--probably an Italian and not more than twenty or twenty-one years old. He carried a bundle at the end of a stout stick thrown across his shoulder, and when he had gotten within speaking distance, he called:

"Good-a morn! Do you need-a da mase or-a da carpendero to do-a da work?"

"Oh, you're one of the plumber's men?" asked Bob, thinking perhaps his aunt might have asked to have some men sent out to work on the new cellar under the washroom where the hot-water heater was to go.

"No, I no-a da plumb. I-a da mase and-a da carpendero."

"Oh, you want a job?" asked Bob, catching his meaning.

"Yes-a, da job, but no-a work-a da field. I no-a da farmer--I-a da mase and-a da carpendero."

Bob exchanged glances with his uncle, who shook his head.

"What's your name?" he asked, suddenly turning to the applicant.

"Tony."

"What do you say, Uncle Joe, if we have Tony go down to the house with us and talk the matter over with Aunt Bettie? He might be the man we could use at the sand pit. Besides," he added suddenly, "he might be the very fellow to help build the dairy house--if he understands both carpentry and mason work, he would be a big help."

"How much will you work for?" asked Joe Williams, who hesitated at paying any money in wages.

"How much-a da work to do?" asked Tony.

"Oh, we've enough for a week or a month--maybe more--that's if you can do our work."

"I understand-a da work," replied Tony, "and I like-a da live in-a da country, if you no-a make-a me sleep in-a da barn."

"Where do you come from?" asked Bob.

"From Italia. My fader, he-a da contracdisto and I learn-a da mase and-a da carpendero."

"Well, why didn't you stay in Italy?" asked Bob.

"Oh," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "there no-a da mon in-a da Italia and too-a much da hard work."

So asking questions and listening to Tony's answers the three reached the house, where Bob quickly explained the matter to his aunt. She came out and asked Tony to stay and have dinner with them. He was given a basin and towel and after he had made his toilet his appearance was decidedly improved.

"He says he doesn't want a job," remarked Joe Williams to his wife, when they were alone after dinner, "if he has to sleep in the barn."

"Well, I don't blame him," said Bettie. "What's the matter with our south room? Your father and mother are moving to town to-morrow, and you know we won't have use for all the rooms in the house. The south room has a separate stairway leading from the small sitting room on the first floor. We could give him those rooms and make him comfortable. I rather like his appearance," she added. "Of course, Italians are foreigners and they're about as awkward in our country trying to speak our language as we would be if we were in their country trying to speak Italian. How much does he want to work for us?"

"He didn't say, but I'll ask him," and they adjourned to the porch.

"How much money would you want, Tony?" asked Joe Williams, "to work for us, say by the month?"

"Where I-a da sleep?" asked Tony quickly.

"In that room up there on the second floor, at the end of the porch."

"And where I-a da eat?" he asked again.

"Why, with us, of course," said Joe Williams.

"Then I stay-a da mont and do-a da work, and when I get-a da through, we make-a da barg. If you like-a my work and I like-a da place, then I stay, but if you no-a like me and I no-a like you, then I go."

"All right," laughed Joe Williams, "that's a bargain, Tony. Do you want to begin work right away?"

"Yes, I no like-a da loaf," said the man, shrugging his shoulders.

"All right, come around here and I'll show you what we want done," he said and took him around behind the house, showed him where to dig out and build a new entrance to the cellar under the washroom and put in a flue for the heater.

Bob was much interested in the making of the trench for the new water system, and while his uncle went to town for the pipe and some pipe tools for laying it, Bob, at Brady's direction, plowed two deep furrows, six feet apart, outlining the two edges of the trench. He plowed each furrow a foot or more deep, so as to outline the edges of the trench and keep the top as narrow as possible. The contractor's foreman and his gang quickly drove their iron bars into the earth three feet six inches deep and about three feet apart and loaded the holes as they went. When they had fifty charges in place, the foreman connected up the battery, and when the men were out of the way he raised the rack bar of the battery to its full height and shoved it down hard. Up came the earth and a neat open trench four feet deep and one hundred and fifty feet long lay open before them.

By the time his uncle had returned, over half the length of the trench had been made and was ready for the pipe.

Dynamite certainly is a quick means for doing a hard job, thought Bob, and he immediately decided to learn more about its uses.

Bob was surprised and pleased to see how quickly and easily Tony could lay out and execute a piece of work. It was no time at all until the excavation was done, the wall was cut through for a door opening and the forms made for concrete steps to lead down into the new cellar. Fortunately, they found that the foundation went down low enough to give them the five-foot head room they needed for the hot-water heater. The hardest work was to connect the flue opening to a flue in the old chimney, which they found had been built up solid with masonry. This made it necessary to take the plaster off back of the chimney and cut a groove. Either by instinct or accident, Tony located a flue, and before the end of the week they not only had the doorway and flue completed, but had laid a cement floor on the cellar as well. Tony showed Bob how to mix the concrete and put it in place so as to get a smooth surface, and explained why it was necessary, in building steps and other concrete work, that it should all be put in at one time and smoothed off as soon as it became sufficiently hard so it would not crack.

The morning after Tony's arrival, Bob's grandparents said good-by to the old homestead and were taken in the auto to town. Bob's uncle drove the car, and, as it got under way, Bob overheard his grandmother remark:

"Too many new-fangled notions, Joe. You'll surely go to the poorhouse before you're through."

"All right, mother," he laughingly replied. "If we do, we'll go on rubber tires and perhaps over concrete, and the road won't seem so rough."

Thomas Williams and his wife had spent their entire lives in the country and moving to town did not mean for them a regular town house and lot, they'd be too cramped to end their days that way. They had purchased a comfortable house, surrounded by a four-acre garden and orchard, all in good repair, and here, as compared with the farm, the work would be light indeed.

After making his parents comfortable in their new home, Joe Williams drove out to meet his new purchases, which were being delivered that day. He met the cavalcade two miles out and accompanied them home.

"Looks like a circus parade, Aunt Bettie," declared Bob, as they stood on the hill back of the barn and saw them winding up the lane. First came the team of black Belgian mares, then the ten Holstein cows, with the bull leading his herd, then a wagon with the five Berkshire sows in a pen, on top of which were the incubator and brooder, and on top of these again the coops with the white leghorn and white rock chickens. Then came another wagon with the bee hives, and following this the small flock of Southdown sheep, looked after by a fine collie dog, and last of all came Joe Williams in his new auto, smiling like the king he felt himself to be.

It was an impressive sight to see this procession of fine-blooded stock arrive at the farm, and the eyes of both Bob and his aunt were glistening when they looked at each other as the procession came up the new road into the barnyard.

"Well, what do you think of them, Bettie?" called her husband, jumping from his auto and kissing her. "Almost like a circus procession. Hey, Bob, show them where you want your bees. Better take them right over to the orchard and set them up where you intend to keep them this summer."

"I've got a place already fixed for them," he replied. Then as Tony came near he called, "Do you understand how to talk to Italian bees, Tony?"

"Yes, I know-a da bees and-a da bees know-a me--no-a sting," said Tony.

"All right," said Bob, "come with us," and they climbed up on the wagon and drove across the meadow to the new apiary.

They placed the hives on the cinder foundation Bob had made for them under the trees and when they were all placed they looked very attractive in their white paint.

"I'm sorry I didn't buy them myself," said the driver of the wagon, who had been a farm hand for the former owner. "They're the greatest honey-makers I ever saw. But I didn't have any place to take them, so I had to let them go. You're a lucky boy--you got them for a song, but do you know how to handle them?" he inquired. "You'll have to look out for them now very carefully, or you may lose them. The spring is the time they require watching so they don't starve."

"I've been reading up a lot about them," said Bob. "But what's in that box?" he asked, as the driver unloaded his last piece--a large box like a tool chest.

"These are your things for handling them, Bob--a smoker, a veil, some tools and a lot of extra parts and things. If you want me to, I'll come out the first nice warm day and help you look them over. I'm not afraid of them. Call up my sister on the 'phone, 770, and tell her when you want me. My name's John Adams."

"Yes, I will," said Bob, "and I'll pay you for your time, too, for while I've read some, I've had no actual experience with bees."

"Well, to-night, after sundown, take the blocks from the entrance and let them fly around in the morning. You may lose a colony or two until you learn how to handle them, but you needn't worry; they're good breeders and will soon make up for that--but be sure and keep the hives cool in hot weather, then they won't swarm so quickly."

When they got back to the house all the new cattle and other stock had been put away, and the men were ready to return home. That night before setting the new chickens at liberty, Bob caught and killed the two remaining Dunghill roosters.

It was a tired but happy family that went to bed at ten o'clock that night, instead of the regular hour of nine.

It seemed to Bob that he had just closed his eyes when bedlam broke loose. His first thought was of the new stock, then of the dynamite, but as he sat up in bed he realized it could not be either of them-- so, throwing up his window, he looked out.

In the moonlight he could distinguish many of their neighbors, who were armed with everything from sleigh bells to horse fiddles, and the racket they made in the stillness of the night seemed greater than any noise he had ever heard. As he raised his window, a shout went up, the neighbors thinking it was Bob's uncle, but seeing their mistake they redoubled their efforts and kept the racket going for a half hour or more. Then his aunt and uncle appeared, and invited the party into the house, where the lamps were already lighted.

Congratulations were extended, a hasty lunch was set out, the cider barrel tapped and a general good time enjoyed for an hour or more.

Many of the boys had been former pupils of the bride and they were happy that she had chosen to come and live among them.

Joe Williams disappeared for a moment and when he returned he carried a large bottle of wine with a long blue ribbon tied to it.

"Boys," he said, when the cheering had stopped, "you all know that with the exception of cider, I never drink anything."

"Oh, don't let that worry you, Joe, we're not so modest," they shouted, but he only held up his hand for silence.

"This bottle of wine was given to us by a very good friend for a certain purpose. We had intended to wait until later to use it, but I don't know any better time than just now, when our friends are all here to carry out our plans, so come out into the yard a moment," and they all adjourned to the front yard.

Here Joe Williams and his bride stepped over to a young apple tree and handing her the bottle, he tied the ribbon to a limb.

"Now, boys, Bettie and I've decided to give our farm a name and sell our produce under that name--a sort of a trade-mark or standard of merit, so now while you're all here, we'll perform the ceremony."

Taking the bottle firmly in both hands, the bride stepped back, stretching the ribbon tight, then with a light shining in her eyes that was not a reflection of the moon, she called in a clear voice, "I christen you 'Brookside Farm,'" and sent the bottle crashing against the tree amid the cheers of the crowd.

When silence had been partly restored, a man was seen mounting the steps of the porch, and holding a stout stick in his hand, he placed one end of the stick against his lips and there floated out upon the stillness of the night the old familiar air, "Home, Sweet Home." When he had finished there were many shining eyes in the crowd, but only Bob recognized in the disappearing figure his new friend Tony, whose natural artistic nature had been responsible for such a fitting tribute.

When the boys had all gone home, Bob's aunt called him to the kitchen.

"Take this up to Tony and thank him for me for the very fine touch he added to our ceremony," and she handed him a plate heaped high with cake, alongside of which his uncle set a large goblet of their rare old elder-berry wine--a mark of distinction conferred by his uncle only upon honored guests.

XII

THE DAIRY HOUSE

While his uncle planted the oats Bob and Tony laid the water pipe in the new trench, the plumbers put in the new fixtures and laid a sewer to the new cess pool. A couple of sticks of dynamite prepared the hole for the latter, which was later walled up by Tony with large loose stone and covered over with a concrete slab--later on when they built the new house they would put in a concrete septic tank, but for the present this cess pool would answer. After laying the water pipe, they borrowed a scoop from Brady and gathered up enough dirt to fill the trench.

Tony and Bob now built the concrete enclosure around the spring. An inch pipe connection for a future water trough was put in each field crossed by the trench, and a valve placed on the line well under ground to prevent freezing.

By using a section of two-inch pipe set vertically over the valve, they could open and close the valve with a long-stemmed wrench.

By the end of the week all was completed, and there was running water in the house.

Saturday arrived and they had found no one to look after the pit. They were discussing the matter and wondering whom they could get, when Alex Wallace came over to see Bob about some sand they needed to build a new wall under their barn.

"You don't happen to know of any one we could get to look after our sand pit, do you, Alex?" asked Joe Williams, as Alex came up.

"Would it be heavy work, Joe?" asked Alex.

"No, it would be an easy job--just taking a ticket from the drivers of the trucks for every load they take away, and making concrete fence posts between times.

"Then I've the very man for you," replied Alex; "my father's brother, Duncan Wallace. He's a Scot, like my father, and was a stone-cutter, but the stone dust got into his lungs and he came to the country to see if he couldn't get better. He isn't very strong, but he could do any kind of light work."

"How much would he want to work for us, Alex?" asked Joe Williams.

"I'm sure I don't know," he replied. "I'll bring him over this evening and you can talk to him yourself. I want to get a couple of loads of sand, Bob," he said, addressing the latter. "How much will you charge me?"

"Fifty cents a yard, Alex--cash or work," replied Bob. "If you'd rather work it out than pay the money, we'd be glad to have the work. You can do the work in your spare time."

"What would the work be?" asked Alex.

"The first job," said Bob, looking inquiringly at his uncle, "is digging a row of fence post holes along the main road to fence in our property. We want to put in concrete fence posts and a wire fence along the main road. After that's up we'll have lots of other fencing to be done."

"How much will you want an hour for your time, Alex?" asked Joe Williams.

"Well, about thirty cents," replied Alex.

"All right, we'll put you down for thirty cents an hour, you to work as many hours as will be required to pay for whatever sand and gravel you get. Of course, you can do the work whenever you have the spare time. We'll stake out the post holes and show you the size we want them dug. You must always let us know when you're going to work, though, so we can keep account of your time and give your credit."

"All right," said Alex, "when can I get the sand?"

"Monday morning," said Bob, "and your uncle can keep account of how much you get."

On Monday morning Joe Williams took the new team and went to town for a wagon-load of Portland cement. The few bags they had in the shed were all used up in the repairs around the spring and cellar. As it had been decided at the conference with John White, the banker, on Saturday, to build a new concrete dairy house and ice house, equipped with running water, it was necessary to lay in a new supply of cement.

Bob looked up the cement bulletins on the handling of concrete, and found that cement should be put in a shed piled on planks raised above the floor, and that the shed should have a tight roof. The only building that would answer these conditions was the wagon shed, and after considering the matter, he decided that by moving the wagons around a bit he could get a space at one end near the door that could be used for this purpose.

He got some old timbers eight inches thick, and six feet long, and laid them on the ground four feet apart, and on top of these he put some two by ten plank, and by the time his uncle returned with the first load he had a platform ready to receive the cement.

"It's very important, Uncle Joe, to keep the cement dry and up from the ground so it won't set before we use it, for the first bag in, you know, will be the last bag out, and cement costs too much to lose any of it."

As soon as dinner was over, Joe Williams went back to town for another load, hauling it up the new road, same as the first load.

"I tell you, Bob, it's a lot easier to bring a load up the new road than it was up the old one. If the main road wasn't so rough, I could haul even more. I can see that John White's argument for concrete roads is a good one. I'm going to talk it up to the farmers around here and see if we can't get them together and build the new road this summer. I was talking to one of the County Commissioners to-day and he says they are in favor of it, but they want the owners of the adjoining farms to ask to have the road built. The Commissioners are politicians, you know, and don't want to do anything that will lose them votes. It's going to take three days to haul out the cement we require for the new dairy house with such rough roads. By the way, Bob," his uncle continued, "John White wants you to come to town with me to-morrow and show him the kind of a dairy house we're planning to build. He says he's anxious that it shall be a model that can be copied by other farmers. I told him you didn't have much of a drawing, but he said that he was sure if you took in the sketches you have, you would be able to explain the construction to him so he could understand it."

The next day as they drove along they talked of the improvement on the farm and the profit they ought to be able to earn with the new equipment. Bob was the optimist and his uncle the pessimist in these discussions, but optimistic Bob was not without his pencil and memorandum book and usually had the better of the argument because of his uncle's disinclination to take the time to figure out the advantages and disadvantages of the schemes.

As soon as they arrived in town, Bob went around to the First National Bank to see the president, while his uncle stopped at the supply yard for another load of cement.

"Hello, Bob," greeted the banker, as he entered. "I hear you've put on some help at the farm to build some of those modern buildings you've been telling me about. Thought I'd like to know what you're doing. Got your plans with you?"

"They aren't very much of plans, Mr. White," explained Bob. "I'm not much of an architect, but maybe you can understand them."

"Bring them into the directors' room, Bob, where we can look them over without interruption," he said, and Bob for the third time was privileged to occupy this room.

"The first thing I want to know," said the banker, "is how you found the size dairy house you needed. Did you figure it out, Bob, or just look up some catalogs and pick one out that pleased you?"