music I ever heard."
"Does he sing, too?" inquired the banker, interested.
"Yes, but it's in Italian and I don't understand what it's all about,
except it's mostly about a bull fighter--he calls him a Toreador. You
ought to hear him when we're out back of the barn some morning. He not
only sings, but he acts it, too. He sticks the pitchfork into the
straw stack, like as if it's a bull, and makes you believe he's
killing it with a sword."
"That's from the opera Carmen," laughed the banker, at Bob's
description of the Toreador Song. "Well, I guess he must be a man of
some education if he can sing that. You better keep him around the
place, Bob, if you can. But, coming back to the question of buildings,
I think I'll speak to your Uncle Joe and see if we can't manage some
way or other to let you work on the buildings so you can get them
pushed along. As I told you, I want to see all your buildings up
within a year."
"Oh, you don't mean it, Mr. White. You don't mean the new barns and
all."
"Yes, everything, Bob," he replied.
"That would cost a lot of money," said Bob, frightened at the idea of
spending so much.
"You seem to forget, Bob, that I told you the First National Bank was
back of your Uncle Joe, and as long as we don't worry, he shouldn't.
Besides, if your Uncle Joe doesn't make good, I'll charge it off to
profit and loss against my 'Constructive Banking' scheme; but I'm not
going to worry about that feature, Bob--I know your Uncle Joe is going
to succeed. You go ahead with your dairy house and I'll drive out in a
few days to see how you're coming along. Give my regards to your Aunt
Bettie," he added, as he waved good-by to the departing boy.
XIII
VISITORS
The building of the dairy was the most interesting thing Bob had ever
undertaken, and they had not proceeded very far until he began to
realize what a valuable helper he had in Tony. Many times when he was
at a loss to know how to proceed, Tony was ready with suggestions and
seemed to know just what to do.
They made a careful list of all the material they needed, and a rough
sketch of the doors and windows with all sizes marked on them; also
the other equipment they would require. These Bob's uncle bought in
town at a planning mill and hardware store. The most important of all
was a seven cubic foot self-charging gasoline-driven concrete mixer of
a type that Bob and Tony had decided would be the best for their use.
The machine selected was not the cheapest one they could have bought,
but it was the one that required the least amount of labor to operate
and was a substantial, well-built machine, guaranteed for one year.
"Father says it always pays to buy a good tool, even if it costs a
little more," Bob had advised his uncle when the latter questioned his
selection, but his uncle had finally given in and the mixer had been
purchased.
Bob was sure his uncle had had a plain talk with John White, the
banker, for now, instead of objecting each time materials and tools
were bought, he had readily consented.
"I want you to keep an account of all the material, time and money you
spend, Bob, so when we're through we'll know exactly what each
building costs," his uncle admonished. "I'm going to give all the
bills for materials to you so you can check them up and see if we
receive everything we order; then you can make a record of what it
costs. John White said that when we're through he wants a detailed
cost of the work, to know exactly what each building has cost us, and
I think it's a good idea myself."
At the end of three weeks the dairy house was fully completed,
including the painting, which Bob and Tony also did. Every day or two
John White had driven out to the farm in the late afternoon to see how
the work was progressing. A stranger might have thought that the
building was being erected for him from the interest he took in
everything that was done.
"I want to get posted on farm building construction, Bob," he
remarked, one day when the building was nearly completed. "You see,
I'm going to preach the gospel of modern buildings among our farmers
and loan them money for their improvements, and I want to see how the
thing is done. I want them to get rid of the continual cost of up-
keep, to say nothing of the loss of time spent in repairing old
buildings, time they could use to earn good American dollars. How soon
are you going to start the hen house you were talking about?"
[Illustration: SMALL, SELF-LOADING, KEROSENE-DRIVEN, CONCRETE MIXERS
MAKE THE WORK EASY--TWO MEN CAN MIX AND PLACE MORE CONCRETE THAN EIGHT
WORKING BY HAND AND THE CONCRETE WILL BE BETTER MIXED]
"We could start it this week," said Bob, "but Uncle Joe is talking
about planting the corn."
"Don't you bother your head about that, Bob; your Uncle Joe and I've
had a talk and have worked that out all right. If the sand pit holds
out, your Uncle Joe pays the expenses, and if it doesn't hold out, I
guess I'll be stuck," he laughed. "I want to see you devote all your
time to getting these buildings up. Next year you can spend all the
time you want raising crops."
"But won't that make a lot of work for Aunt Bettie?" said Bob,
considering the matter. "She's pretty busy now, Mr. White."
"I was thinking of that, too. It isn't fair that your uncle should
have all the help on his end. I only wish we knew where we could get a
good woman to help her."
Tony, who was standing near, was listening closely to what was being
said:
"Mr. Bob, I have-a no told you that I got-a da wife who live in-a da
city, and I know she like-a da come and work for-a your Aunt Bettie.
We got-a no-a da kids, and she like-a da country, like-a da me."
"That's a fine idea," said the banker, turning around quickly. "Where
is she now, Tony?"
"She in Pittsburgh, wid her brud."
"Send for her right away, Tony," said the banker.
"All right, Mr. White, but I have no-a da mon."
"Oh, that's so, Tony. Well, we'll take care of that."
The banker left and returned a few minutes later and handed Tony $25.
"This is on account of your work, Tony."
"All right, I send-a da letter to-night," and Bob thought he saw a
happy look in Tony's eyes as he thrust the money into his pocket and
started to work again.
"Bob," said his aunt one morning, a few minutes after he had brought
the mail up from the R. F. D. box on the main road, "I've some good
news for you. We're going to have company; my two nieces who live in
New England are coming to see us. One is Edith Atwood, my brother's
daughter, who lives in Worcester, Massachusetts, and the other is Ruth
Thomas, my sister's daughter, who lives near Wallingford, Connecticut.
Ruth is eighteen and Edith will be eighteen in September. They
finished high school last year and are both anxious to see our farm."
"When will they get here?" asked Bob, not pleased at the news and
wondering what the coming of two girls might do to upset their plans
for the improvement of the farm.
"They were not supposed to come before June," replied his aunt, seeing
that Bob was not pleased, "but Ruth was so anxious to get into the
country while we were planting that she persuaded Edith to come now.
They'll be here on Saturday."
"That'll be day after to-morrow," exclaimed Bob, "the day I was
planning to start work on the new hen house."
"Well, you needn't stop on their account, Bob," replied his aunt.
"I'll drive in and get them. I know how anxious you are to get the hen
house started, now that you have Tony to help you."
All day Bob kept turning over in his mind the invasion of his domain
by two girls. Now, why couldn't the visitors have been boys instead of
girls, then he could have enlisted their services in the construction
of the new buildings. What could he not do with two willing boys to
help him? Why must these visitors be girls instead of boys, he
thought. They would probably sit around the house all day, reading
magazines, or want him to leave his work to drive them about in the
car. He felt sure the best part of the day, the evening hour they all
spent together in the sitting room, discussing their plans, would now
be spoiled.
The next day he took the tractor with two trailing wagons and began
hauling sand and gravel from the pit to the site of the hen house. The
operator of the steam shovel loaded the wagons for him and this saved
much time for two shovelfuls made a load. By noon they had brought up
twenty loads, enough to make a start on the foundations. He again
appreciated the convenience of having the water piped to this
building, the same as to the dairy house, for a short hose gave them
all the water they needed, when and where they needed it, and with the
cement stored in the wagon shed near by they had all the materials
they required to begin work. Bob took his tape line and with Tony
holding the ring against the fence that divided the south field from
the barnyard, measured off fifty feet and drove a peg. Then going
eighty rods along the fence, measured out fifty feet again and drove
another peg. He was careful to keep the tape line as nearly square
with the fence as possible. They now stretched a line between the two
pegs and coming within a few feet from the first one, set up a batter
board three feet long, and at right angles to the line--the same as
they had done with the dairy house foundations. Then they measured off
two hundred and fifty-two feet along the line and set up another
batter board in the same manner. This done, they put in two other
batter boards at right angles with the first, but eighteen inches back
of the line. They drove two nails in these boards, exactly two hundred
and fifty feet apart. They then placed another line parallel to and
twenty feet away from the first one with similar batter boards, and
located the other end of the cross lines on the boards. With a ten-
foot pole and using the six, eight and ten method, they squared the
lines, and located the ends of the buildings.
Bob then marked under the line with heavy black pencil the letters "B.
L."--meaning building line. This done they drove other nails in each
batter board six inches outside of the building line to locate the
outside of the footing, and removed the lines to these nails. From
these new lines they measured back twenty inches and drove other
nails, locating the inner edge of the footings.
Bob placed a large black letter "F" under each nail to designate the
edge of footings. They now took their picks and dug a small score in
the ground directly under all the lines, thus marking out correctly on
the ground the outer and inner edge of the footings. As the elevation
of the ground at the northwest corner was the highest, they set a
grade stake with the top six inches above the ground at that point and
from this stake set other stakes at ten-foot intervals in the center
of the footings all around the building, using the twelve-foot level
board and mason's level to establish the correct elevation.
They took down their lines, wound them up carefully and laid them
aside for further use. Bob decided, in order to keep the frost from
getting under the walls, they'd have to place the footings three feet
below the finished grade. In order to throw the water away from the
buildings, it would also be necessary to make a fall of six inches on
the high corner. This would make the trench for the footings two feet,
six inches deep at that point, and as there was a drop of eight inches
to the southeast corner, the trench there would be one foot, ten
inches deep. Between the grade stakes they now dug out a section the
full width of the footings and about three feet long, and located the
exact bottom of the trench by measuring down three feet from the under
side of the level board as it rested on two of the grade stakes.
They threw the excavated earth inside of the building to bring the
floor up to grade, and when the depth holes were completed they dug
out the sections between them, leveling the intervening space by their
eyes.
Bob was so interested in the new building that he and Tony went back
and worked until dark, so as to have the excavation ready for footings
in the morning.
"I'm going to scold you for breaking the Union rules, Bob," laughed
his aunt, when he came into the sitting room a few minutes after eight
o'clock. "You know we decided not to work after six o'clock."
"Yes, I know we did, Aunt Bettie," said Bob, "but I was so anxious to
get the excavation done, ready for concreting to-morrow."
"Well, I suppose if I could command the sun to stand still, like
Joshua of old, you wouldn't be willing to stop until the whole job was
done," she laughed. "How long do you think we could remain happy here
if we all began working from daylight until dark? Life would soon
become a burden, and you'd be the first one to leave for the city,
Bob. Besides, if we keep long working hours, we'll miss our pleasant
evenings together, and I'm not willing to give them up," she smiled at
him across the table. "I guess you're right, Aunt Bettie," he replied,
as he sat down in a chair, too tired to read. "I won't do it again."
The next morning Bob had his chores and milking done by six o'clock
and by six-thirty he was out at the new hen house, where he was joined
by Tony.
"Good-a morn, Mr. Bob," smiled Tony. "This-a the day we make-a da
concrete fast."
"That's what we will," replied Bob. "Get some cement, Tony, and we'll
start the mixer going right away."
While Tony was getting the cement, Bob filled his six cubic foot
measure with sand and gravel, and on top of these he placed one bag of
cement, then he started the engine and the elevator emptied the load
into the drum, which, as soon as he added the water, he set revolving.
When the concrete was thoroughly mixed, he threw the dumping lever
over and filled the wheelbarrow that Tony placed under the discharging
end of the drum.
By the time Tony had dumped the three barrows of concrete into the
trench, Bob had another batch ready for the machine, and while this
was being mixed Tony leveled off the concrete in the trench even with
the grade stakes, set in the trench six inches above the bottom.
By night the footings were completed. They now located and dug the
footings for the piers of the cross partitions and concreted them, so
as to give the cement of the main footings a chance to set up before
they began putting the forms on top of them. They could have saved the
forms below grade by making the excavation the exact width of the
foundation wall, but they felt this was poor economy, for the work was
uncertain and rough, and the extra labor caused by trying to fit the
forms to the sloping ground would more than offset the little saving;
besides, it took more cement to fill in irregular trenches than it did
ones of exact size. They had taken the forms they used for the dairy
house foundation, together with some new sections, and set them up on
the new footing, using wooden spreaders for holding them the right
distance apart and placing heavy wires through the hole in the forms,
the ends of which encircled a pin and were twisted up tight securing
the forms firmly together.
The three-foot form sections brought the top of the forms just under
the line, which was now stretched between the nails marked "B.L." and
the outside of the wall was correctly located. They drove pegs into
the ground on both sides and braced the top of the forms to hold them
to the exact line. They had only twenty sections, each ten feet long,
enough for one end and four sections down each side, so Bob decided to
put in the forms at the north end and concrete them, and then remove
them to the south end. When the concrete there was sufficiently hard
they could set up the forms between the two ends thus finished. This
would provide three expansion joints on each side, which would be just
right. They had just completed the erection of the forms for the north
end and filled the hopper with a new batch, ready to be hoisted into
the drum, when Bob happened to look toward the barn and saw the car
come to a stop in the barnyard. By the time he had cranked the engine,
the occupants of the car had alighted and his uncle was starting for
the house, his arms full of suitcases. Bob noticed that one of the
girls who had alighted was of medium height and slender, while the
other was short and rather stout.
"Is that your new hen house?" he heard the stout one inquire of his
aunt, as he stopped the engine on the mixer, and she looked over in
Bob's direction.
Bob had again filled the drum and was watching the mixing of the
concrete a few moments later, when he heard someone behind him and
turned around.
"We thought we'd come out and see how you're getting along, Bob," said
his aunt, smiling at him, while the two girls came forward as she
spoke. "I want you to meet my nieces, Bob. This is Ruth Thomas, and
this is Edith Atwood--and this young man, girls, is Robert Williams,
about whom I spoke."
"What a fib, Aunt Bettie," laughed Ruth. "You know you've been talking
about him ever since we got off the train, and besides, you called him
'Bob,' not Robert."
"May I call you 'Bob,' too?" she asked, looking up at him. "I like it
better than Robert. It doesn't take so long to say."
"Of course," replied Bob, blushing. "I guess I wouldn't know who you
meant if you called me 'Robert,' for I've been called 'Bob' ever since
I can remember."
"Is that concrete, Bob?" asked Ruth suddenly, as he stopped the engine
and brought the drum to a standstill. "What makes it so gray?"
"The cement," said Bob, pleased to see her interested in his work.
"Is it sticky?" she asked, as she put her fingers into it and stirred
around in the mixture.
"Why, it's gritty, just like sand, Aunt Bettie," she said looking up.
"Of course," said Bob. "That's because it's made of sand and gravel
and cement."
"May I see you make some?" she asked.
"Yes, in a few minutes," he replied; "just as soon as we empty the
drum. You'd better stand back a little so that you won't get splashed
when the concrete goes into the wheel-barrow," as Tony came forward.
"And this is Tony, Bob's assistant, girls," said their aunt.
"This is Ruth, Tony, and this is Edith."
"I-a please to meet da young-a ladies," said Tony, more embarrassed
even than Bob had been, as he awkwardly placed the wheel-barrow under
the drum.
As soon as the drum was empty, Bob measured out a charge of four parts
gravel, two parts sand and one part cement, and then started the
engine and dumped them into the drum, where he added sufficient water
for the mixing.
"How do you tell how much water to put in?" asked Ruth.
"Oh, we learned that by experience," said Bob. You see the mixer has a
tank on top that holds the right amount, but this may be varied if you
like. The concrete must be wet enough so that it quakes, but not thin
enough to run like water."
"Let me put in the water next time, Bob, won't you?" she asked. "Say,
Aunt Bettie, may I help Bob mix his concrete?"
"You better come to the house and help me," replied her aunt laughing.
"Bob and Tony, I'm afraid, would only find you in the way."
"All right," said Ruth, "but on Monday I'll help you, Bob," and she
started for the house with her aunt and cousin, the latter Bob now
recalled had not spoken a single word, beyond the introduction.
"I'm going to help Bob mix concrete on Monday, Uncle Joe," said Ruth
at supper that night. "I know how it's done. You take four parts of
cement, two of sand and one part of gravel, and put them in the, 'What
do you call it, Bob?'"
"Drum," said Bob.
"Yes, drum," repeated Ruth. "You see, Uncle Joe, I know how to mix
it."
"You use only one part of cement, Ruth," corrected her cousin, "and
two of sand and four of gravel."
Bob glanced up quickly at this clear statement of the facts, and for
the first time looked directly into the brown eyes of Edith Atwood.
XIV
RUTH AND THE STRAW STACK
The Monday morning's mail brought them notice that the cement drain
tile had arrived in town. They found it cheaper to buy this from a
firm that made a specialty of tile rather than try to make them, and,
more important still, a letter had been received by Tony saying his
wife would arrive on the ten o'clock train; so it was decided that
work should be suspended on the hen house for the morning and that
Tony and Bob should take the car and drive in to meet the train, while
Joe Williams would take the team and bring out the tile and some new
seed corn that he was getting for the spring planting--a new variety
that John White had persuaded him to try.
At eight-thirty work on the hen house was suspended, the car gotten
out and cleaned, Bob changed his clothes, and Tony, with as much of
the dirt removed as possible--smiling and happy--got into the car and
drove to the station. They arrived just a few minutes before the
train, Bob remaining in the car while Tony went around the station to
meet his wife, as she alighted from the train.
[Illustration: EVERY BOY THAT RAN AWAY FROM THE FARM AND MANY THAT ARE
STILL THERE CAN TELL OF THE DAYS WASTED ON REPAIRS TO WOODEN FENCES
AND CLEANING OUT FENCE ROWS. YOU WILL ALWAYS FIND A PROSPEROUS FARMER
BEHIND A NEAT WIRE FENCE ON PERMANENT CONCRETE POSTS.]
A few minutes later Bob's ears were greeted by the sound of animated
conversation in a foreign tongue, not a word of which was intelligible
to him, but every word of which seemed to please the speakers. A
little later Tony came around the corner of the station, a huge
suitcase under each arm, followed by a rather good-looking woman of
medium height, and, like Tony, a true type of sunny Italy. She was
dressed much better than Bob had expected to find her, and when Tony
said, "This-a my wife, Mr. Bob," he was surprised to hear her say in
very good English: "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Williams," letting
her gaze fall as she greeted him.
As soon as Bob had recovered from his surprise, he jumped down from
the seat, opened the door of the tonneau and helped her into the car,
an act of courtesy which the smiling eyes of Tony quickly
acknowledged. One of the suitcases was put on the empty front seat of
the car and the other was placed on end between Tony and his wife in
the tonneau, and then they started for the farm.
While Tony and his wife carried on an animated conversation in
Italian, Bob was not without his own thoughts. He was trying to figure
out how Tony, who had difficulty in expressing his ideas in English,
should happen to have such a good-looking English-speaking Italian
wife. He was not aware that many of the American-born Italian boys and
girls receive high school educations, and, of course, he didn't know
that Tony, who had been born in Italy, should have met in the house of
a distant relative, a young woman who had had these advantages, and
who should have found in the good-natured Tony, with his foreign
manners, the object of her love. He was wondering, too, how she might
like farm work and how his Aunt Bettie might like her.
He didn't have long to wait, for now that the roads were getting dry
and better, he made the trip in less than twenty minutes and they were
soon speeding up the new driveway to the house. He jumped out of the
car, and taking one of the suitcases conducted Tony and his wife to
his aunt, who had come out on the porch to greet them, and he noticed
that she was as much surprised as he had been when Tony blushingly
said:
"This-a my wife, Mrs. Williams," and she had replied:
"I'm pleased to know you, Mrs. Williams," extending her hand. "My name
is Maria Martinelli," she added. "Tony has been telling me what a fine
place you have here, and how kind you've been to him. I'm sure I'll be
very happy working for you."
"Well, we do like Tony and I believe he likes us, and I hope you'll
like us also," Aunt Bettie replied.
Tony now started for his room, the suitcases under his arms.
"We haven't Tony's room very well fixed up yet," Mrs. Williams
continued, as Tony's wife followed him up the stairs, "but you and I
can take care of that in the next few days."
Bob felt sure that his Aunt Bettie had already established pleasant
relations with her new assistant, and whistled merrily as he changed
into his working clothes.
When he returned to the hen house he was surprised to see some one in
a brand new suit of funny-looking overalls sitting on the gravel pile
waiting for him. As he came near, the stranger arose and looked toward
him, but it was not until he got within a few feet that he recognized
in the figure before him Ruth Thomas.
"Aunt Bettie said she'd let me help you with the concrete, Bob, so I
put on these. How do you like my farmerette clothes?" she, asked
smiling.