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.
[Illustration: ONE-HALF THE HERD, HE WILL EARN HIS INITIAL COST IN
THREE YEARS]
"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?"
"No, Mr. White," replied Bob, "Aunt Bettie and I decided first on the
size of the dairy herd. We thought that twenty cows would be as many
as we would be able to take care of on a farm of the size of ours, if
we do general farming. We have used a twenty-cow herd as the basis of
our calculations. We found by reading the recommendations in the
Government's bulletins, that in order to keep a dairy of good milk
cows, it would be necessary to take care of five calves and five
yearling heifers, and an old and a young bull in order to keep the
herd up to maximum production. We figure that a herd of twenty
Holstein cows ought to average two hundred quarts of milk daily. This
would mean ten twenty-quart cans to take care of the milk, and,
allowing for the ice, would require a trough nine feet by two feet six
inches by two feet. If we separate the cream, of course, it wouldn't
require such a large trough. But we used this as a basis of the dairy
requirements. Then we found by looking up another Government bulletin
that it would take about twenty tons of ice to take care of this milk,
but we need ice around the farm for other things, too, so we decided
to make the icehouse large enough for thirty tons. Aunt Bettie and I
read all the bulletins we could get from the Government and then we
looked up the different ones sent out by the Portland cement
manufacturers, but we found they didn't exactly agree; besides, we
felt that if we could build the icehouse inside of the dairy, the ice
wouldn't melt so fast, so we've decided to make a combination building
like this," he said, as he laid his plans before the banker. "We're
going to put this building back of the woodshed where it will join the
new cow barn."
"But isn't a twenty-cow herd pretty large for one man to handle, Bob?"
asked the banker.
"No, Mr. White, you can get a two-unit milking machine now that will
milk twenty to twenty-five cows in one hour and give a ninety-eight
per cent. efficiency."
"How much will that cost, Bob?"
"We can get a complete two-unit outfit consisting of pump, air tanks,
two milking units, installed in the barn, complete for $450."
"But you've only ten cows, now, Bob. Wouldn't that be too large for
them?"
[Illustration: THE ELECTRIC MILKER SOON PAYS FOR ITSELF]
[Illustration: COMFORTABLE SANITARY STALLS OF CONCRETE WITH WOOD
BLOCKPAVING ON FLOOR. RUNNING WATER AND PLENTY OF SUNSHINE ASSURE A
HEALTHY AND CONTENTED HERD]
"No, Mr. White, the outfit is designed for from ten to twenty-five
cows, and will do the milking twice as fast as by hand."
"That's right, Bob; put in machinery and cut down help. Let's see,
that would save at least two hours a day for one man at, say thirty
cents an hour, or $219 per year. You say the complete outfit costs
$450, which amount at six per cent, interest would mean $27, or a
saving of $192. Quite a saving, Bob."
"Have you laid out a general scheme for all your buildings?" asked the
banker, much interested.
"Yes," replied Bob. "Aunt Bettie and I have figured out the size and
location of all the new buildings we'll need for the farm. Here they
are on this drawing," and he produced his general layout. "Of course,
you know, Mr. White, we won't get them all at once, but we want to
build each one as we go, so that it will be part of a definite scheme.
Aunt Bettie says we mustn't make any mistakes in the placing of our
buildings." "What does your Uncle Joe say about all these plans?"
asked the banker.
"Well, Uncle Joe isn't very much interested just now, Mr. White. He
thinks we're planning to spend too much money, but Aunt Bettie says it
isn't so much the amount of money we spend, as the way in which it is
spent that requires the planning."
"That's right," said the banker. "Do your thinking first and your
building afterward, and then you won't have a lot of mistakes to work
with all your life. I like the way you've laid these buildings out,
Bob. You must have read a lot to get this idea. Where did you say the
new hen house is to go?"
"Over here behind the cow barn. You see, Mr. White, our present
buildings are all built facing the wrong way. We don't get the right
exposure. Besides, Aunt Bettie and I think that the new house should
set out where the old barn is at the present and the new barn should
be out in the orchard back of the smokehouse. The trees in this
orchard are old anyway, and it is about time they were cut down. That
would make a good layout for all the buildings and have them
conveniently connected. You see the new driveway comes up in the yard
between the house and the barn, where it ought to be. That will make
the general entrance to the house toward the barn and a garden
entrance toward the main road."
"That's right, Bob; I'm glad to hear you talk about gardens. I think
the finest thing on a farm, outside of making a profit," he added
smiling, "are flowers."
"Well, the flowers are Aunt Bettie's idea," said Bob. "She says
they've many nice gardens in New England, and that she wants to have
one out here, and, of course, you know that'd be the southwest
exposure, and just the place for a flower garden."
"What's this dotted line for, Bob?" asked the banker, pointing with
his lead pencil.
"Oh, that's the water supply pipe from the spring on 'Old Round Top',"
said Bob. "You see, we're planning to carry the water into all the
buildings, so it won't be necessary to take the stock out to water in
the winter. Of course, when we build the cow barn, we'll put in
individual water bowls for each cow. Aunt Bettie and I are reading up
on dairy barns now and when we come to build that we don't want any
mistakes. We want it just as good and practical as it can be made, yet
not too expensive."
"After you get the dairy house up, Bob, what's the next building
you're going to build?"
"We want to build the hen house next, Mr. White," said Bob, "but it's
a good deal of work for just Tony and I, working by ourselves, even
though we do get up early in the morning. Besides, it'll soon be
planting time and Uncle Joe will need me in the corn field."
"I was thinking of that, Bob," said the banker thoughtfully, tapping
the table with the end of his pencil. "I wonder why it wouldn't pay
your Uncle Joe to put on a man to help him and let you look after the
buildings."
"Oh, but he couldn't afford that. Besides, I like to work at planting,
too," replied Bob hastily. "Yes, that's so," said the banker, "but I
think I told you, Bob, I want to see your Uncle Joe's farm a model
one, and I don't want him to spend three or four years in fixing it
up. Of course, the other farmers won't do theirs quite so quickly;
they don't have sand pits on their farms, but there's so much to do to
get these old farms on a paying basis that I want to see your uncle's
farm finished up completely by the end of this year."
"But I'm sure Uncle Joe couldn't afford to go ahead with all the
buildings, Mr. White," replied Bob in alarm, "and while Aunt Bettie
and I would like to see them put up and have all the improvements made
without waiting so long, it would cost a lot of money."
"Have you any idea, Bob, what these buildings will cost?" asked the
banker a moment later.
"Not exactly, Mr. White, although we've made up some figures, using
the prices given in the bulletins, and trying to figure out the cost
of the concrete work ourselves. We think that the dairy house will
cost $450; the hen house $1000; the cow barn $1500, and the main barn
$2000. Then there's the new piggery and the concrete feeding floor
that goes with it. The barn, of course, will have one or two silos--we
haven't decided yet which will be best--and we want to put in a manure
pit with a carrier system. And I want to make some concrete shelters
for my bee hives. Then, of course, we'll need some equipment, such as
a corn harvester and machine for filling the silos--these will cost
about $500. We ought to have a new machinery shed to keep all the
farming implements in, and I've been telling Uncle Joe we also need a
shop with a forge for blacksmith work and some iron-working tools for
making repairs to the farming implements, also a small carpenter shop.
I want Tony to make some new bee hives for me during the winter. Say,
you ought to hear Tony play, Mr. White," said Bob suddenly.
"Why, what does he play?" asked the banker.