with me, but it was hard for her to get away. How do you like
farming?"
"Oh, I like farming very much and I want to be a farmer. You know,
there are lots of interesting things to do on a farm, dad."
"By the way, I met a friend of yours, Bob--John White, of the First
National Bank. He was telling me all about the things you've been
doing on the old place. He says you even have a name for it."
"Why, yes; didn't you see it on the exhibits? We're going to sell
everything under a trade name, just like thread and other things that
have names."
"How much do you weigh now, Bob?"
"I weight 137 pounds; that is 27 pounds more than when I went to the
farm, and I'm two inches taller."
"I should say you have been growing, Bob. Has your Uncle Joe paid you
yet for your year's work?
"No, he hasn't; but he will when he gets 'round to it. You see, he
hasn't sold his crops yet."
"How much do you think he will give you, Bob?"
"I don't know, but I think he'll be fair. Aunt Bettie will see to
that, if he should forget it himself. If you come along with me, I'll
show you how many prize winners we have," and he proudly took his
father from one exhibit to another, all the time telling him of the
permanent improvements they were making on the farm.
"You must come out to the farm to-night and see the place. You have no
idea what it looks like with the old barn gone and nearly all the
concrete buildings up. You can see the big silo ever so far away. Of
course, the biggest change is the taking away of the pond. Just look
at that corn standing there--that's what we got out of the old pond
where you taught me to swim. We got over 10 tons per acre of ensilage,
after leaving several hundred bushels from the field from which to
select our seed. You can see for yourself what fine-looking corn it
is. Just look at those big ears there, and all that fifteen acres
raised before was muskrats and turtles."
"You're right, Bob, it was a 'Hidden Treasure'."
After the speed trials were over Bob milked his cows again, and with
his father drove out to Brookside Farm.
"My, it certainly doesn't look like the old place, Bob," his father
remarked, when they came in sight of the farm. "What a fine fence; are
those stone posts, Bob?"
"No, dad, they're concrete, but will last just as long as stone."
Bob now stopped the car to give his father time to see all the
changes.
"Why, the sawmill's gone too, Bob."
"Yes," he replied, "we'll drive down that way and go in at the lower
gate."
It was hard for Bob's father to understand the reason for all the
buildings and what conditions had made them different sizes and
shapes.
He did not know until Bob explained to him that each building required
special designing to suit certain conditions.
That night they sang the "Happy Farmer" song for him, and his father
sat up long after the others had retired, talking to his brother Joe.
On the way home from the Fair on Friday afternoon, the animals from
Brookside Farm fell in behind those of the Wallace Farm. Alex Wallace
was looking after their flock of Merino sheep, in which there was an
old buck, and had with him their Scotch collie dog "Don." Bob was
looking after his flock of Southdown sheep, which he had driven close
behind Alex, so the boys could talk to each other back and forth as
they went along.
After a while Alex got tired turning his head around to hear what Bob
had to say, for the noise of the clattering feet of the sheep on the
concrete road made it difficult for him to hear, so he left his dog
"Don" between the two flocks and came back and joined Bob.
They proceeded thus for about a quarter of a mile when suddenly Jerry,
the Southdown buck of Bob's flock, started forward and all the others
followed, so that the two flocks became merged into one. As Bob rushed
forward to separate them, the two bucks stepped up to each other and
placed their heads together, when Alex, seeing Bob trying to separate
them, shouted:
"That's right, Bob, take your big fellow away or mine will kill him."
The remark angered Bob, whereupon he ceased his efforts and said:
"Well, if you think that little runt of yours can kill ours, I guess
we had better let them fight it out." "All right," said Alex; "I'm
satisfied."
So the two boys stood still while the two bucks placed their heads
together, then stepped slowly backwards until they were on opposite
sides of the road, where they stood looking at each other. The ewes
crowded back and left an open space between them and stood as intently
interested as the boys, waiting the coming battle.
After the bucks had paused for a moment, they lowered their heads and
rushed at each other. Now, it must be remembered that a Southdown buck
stands very much higher than one of the Merino breed, which is rather
short in the legs and set close to the ground. Also that the Southdown
had been used to associating with sheep of his own size; consequently
when he lowered his head to strike, he did not take into account that
the Merino was so much lower than himself. This gave the Merino the
advantage, and, instead of the Merino striking his adversary on the
hard skull as the latter expected he would do, he struck him on the
point of the nose, breaking Jerry's neck.
Both boys were horrified to see Bob's prize-winning buck lying dead in
the road, and while they looked at him speechless, Tony, who was
coming along behind with some of the cattle, rushed forward and
quickly turned him into mutton, while Bob with a heavy heart went on
to the farm with the others.
It was not necessary for Bob to explain the fight to his uncle, who
came along the road shortly behind him and to whom Tony explained the
accident.
"It's all right, Bob," said his uncle, as he drove up into the
barnyard. "I know just how you felt when Alex Wallace challenged you
to let them fight, and while I'm sorry Jerry is dead, still I think if
I had been there myself, I would have taken up his dare, just as you
did. You know Brookside Farm has a reputation to maintain, and, while
I don't believe in quarreling, still this was a case where I think you
were justified in letting them scrap it out. At any rate, we've had
such a profitable year at Brookside, I guess we can afford to charge
Jerry to the profit and loss account. He has not been exactly a gross
loss. Tony has turned him into mutton, and, as soon as I get the
cattle stowed away, I'm going back for him."
As soon as the Fair was over and all returned to the farm, they
started in to dig their potatoes. Joe Williams expected a good yield
from the field, but he was surprised when he found that from the seven
acres he obtained 1400 bushels, which was considerably more than he
thought was possible. To lessen the work, a potato plow was used to
dig them, and they were graded by machinery in the field.
The new concrete root cellar had been completed just a few days before
and the potatoes were taken there and put into bins.
"Do you know what I think, Uncle Joe?" said Bob one evening at supper,
after the potatoes had all been gathered.
"What have you thought of now?" asked his uncle laughing, for since
his crop had turned out so well and he had won so many prizes at the
Fair, Joe Williams was very happy.
"I think if we would take our seven-acre potato field and put in an
overhead sprinkler system, and put plenty of manure on it next year,
we could increase the yield from 1400 bushels to 4200 bushels."
"How could it be possible to get that many potatoes out of seven acres
of ground, Bob?" asked his uncle incredulously.
"Well, I've been reading of a farm in New Jersey where they do that,
and they got $960 per acre for the potatoes, which were only one of
three crops raised on the ground the same year."
"If that's so, Bob, why wouldn't it pay to plant the whole farm in
potatoes?"
"Well, maybe it would, Uncle Joe, at least several of the fields. The
story of the farm I was reading about said they put on one hundred
tons of manure, worth $2.50 per ton, on each acre of ground."
"What!" said his uncle; "$250 worth of manure on each acre. That
wouldn't be possible."
"Well, that's what the paper said--plenty of water and plenty of
manure, and the crops take care of themselves."
"That's right, Joe," said his wife. "Bob showed me the same article.
The farm averaged over $2000 per acre and I think it would be a good
idea to buy the outfit next year, Joe. The same as our growing of
vegetables under glass. I'm very much interested in growing vegetables
out of season--there isn't much work to do in winter and we can easily
take care of them, and in that way we may find we could make more
money on less ground than by doing general farming."
"Well, it's worth looking into," said her husband. "All of our things
so far have panned out pretty good and I'm not willing to pass up
anything now without giving it a thorough investigation. By the way,
Bettie, don't you think we ought to put an orchard on 'Old Round Top?'
That's one field we can't very well plow."
"What had you thought of planting, Joe?"
"I thought peaches would be a good crop there--peaches ought to do
well on the south slope."
"Well, you know a peach orchard doesn't live very long and it's rather
a fickle crop," she replied.
"I tell you what I was thinking of, Uncle Joe," said Bob.
"What's that?" asked his uncle.
"Planting it with peaches with black walnut trees in between."
"What do you want with black walnuts?" asked Bob's uncle.
"Well, when the trees are grown, you have the walnuts, and when the
trees get older black walnut timber, which is very valuable. A hill
such as Round Top that isn't much good for anything else, would raise
good black walnut timber. Of course, you'd have to dynamite the holes
good and deep where you put the trees, so they'd have no trouble
getting good roots. Once they were well started, I don't think there'd
be any trouble with them."
"I hadn't thought of that, Bob," said his uncle, "but I guess we had
better look into it. By the time the peach trees were dead, the walnut
trees would have a good start. How many trees will it take to plant
it?"
"I figure if we took the whole twelve acres, it would require twelve
hundred peach trees," said Bob.
"But that would be a good many peach trees to take care of, Uncle
Joe."
"Yes, but we won't be building any concrete buildings by the time they
begin bearing, so why not plant it all in peach trees with the black
walnuts in between, as you say?"
"I'll have Edith write to a grower to-night, if you wish, Joe, and
find what the peaches will cost," said his wife.
"How about the black walnuts?" asked Bob. "Shall we plant the trees or
nuts?"
"I think we had better plant nuts and let them grow themselves. We can
stick a lot of them between the peach trees and, of course, the peach
trees will be dead long before the walnuts get to be any size."
Much to the regret of every one, two days later Ruth and Edith said
good-by to Brookside Farm and went back to their New England homes.
They had intended to stay a few weeks longer, but a telegram from
Edith's father saying her mother had been taken suddenly ill and
needed her, caused them to decide that they should return at once.
When Bob came back from an inspection trip with John White and the
County Commissioners over the new concrete road, they had packed their
trunks and were ready to leave for the afternoon train. He drove the
girls and their Aunt Bettie to town in the car and was particularly
depressed when he said good-by at the station--somehow or other they
had become part of the life at Brookside Farm, and now that they were
going he began to realize how much he would miss them. Even the good-
natured Ruth, in her impetuous way and ability to get into trouble,
had added much to the life on the farm. Edith was very quiet all the
way to the station, and Bob could not tell whether it was worrying
over the possible illness of her mother or her disappointment in
having to return so soon, or maybe, as he hoped, it was for another
reason she was silent--at any rate, she had little to say to him as he
bid her good-by, but just before she ascended the steps of the train,
when, for a second, they looked full into each others' eyes, he seemed
to feel that perhaps he was right in attributing it to that reason.
So the girls went on their way and Bob went back to work.
XXIII
CHRISTMAS AT BROOKSIDE FARM
One evening a few days before Thanksgiving, shortly after they had
moved into the new house, Bob sat before the open fire talking with
his aunt and uncle, when the latter said:
"Bob, it's just a little over nine months since you came to live with
us and turned our farm upside down, digging after 'Hidden Treasure.'
Do you remember the Sunday we let the water out of the old pond?"
"Yes, I do, Uncle Joe."
"Do you remember the conversation you and I had that day?"
"I haven't forgotten that either, Uncle Joe," said Bob with a smile.
"Well, it's getting around kind of close to payday, don't you think,
Bob?"
"Oh, I don't need any money, Uncle Joe. I received $250 for my honey
this fall, and I haven't spent very much yet."
"That's no reason why you should not be paid just the same. You've
done your work. I don't know what you feel you've earned, but what
would you say if I gave you $540--that's at the rate of $60 per month
with board."
"Do you mean to pay me in money, Uncle Joe?"
"Of course, in money. I don't suppose you want to take it out in sand
and gravel, do you?"
"No, Uncle Joe, of course not; but do you think I've earned that much
money, Uncle Joe?"
"Yes, and more, but that's as much as I feel I can pay you, and if you
stay with us another year, and we prosper as well as we did this year,
what do you say to calling it $75 per month with board?"
"That'll be splendid, Uncle Joe, and I'll be perfectly satisfied."
"All right," said his uncle, "then it's a bargain, and here's your
check for the money," and he handed him a check already made out and
drawn to his order for $540.
"Thank you, Uncle Joe," said Bob, looking first at the check and then
at his aunt and uncle in turn. "I hope you both feel I've earned it
all."
"Oh, yes, you've earned it all right, Bob; don't worry about that,"
said his uncle.
"If I were you," said his aunt, "I'd stop in at Bush & Company,
tailors, and have a couple of nice suits of clothes made--a specially
good one for Sunday and another one for general dress-up wear. You
should have a new overcoat, too, and some other nice things. You're
nineteen years old now, Bob, and you've been working pretty hard this
summer, and not paying much attention to your clothes. We'll like you
just as well in your old clothes as we will in the new ones, but while
you're a farmer, that's no reason why you should not have some good
clothes, the same as other boys. You know, Brookside Farm has
established a reputation, and while I don't believe in wasting money
on clothes, I think we should all be dressed comfortably and be neat."
"All right, Aunt Bettie, I'll be going to town to-morrow and I'll take
care of it."
Time flew quickly at Brookside Farm, while they hurried to finish
their concrete buildings and get their new fences up before the ground
froze up solidly.
After this was done, Joe Williams fixed up a lot of wire racks to take
care of his seed corn, and carefully winnowed out his prize oats for
good fertile seed. The chickens, too, claimed considerable of their
combined attention.
Now that Edith had gone they both began to realize how much help she
had been in her quiet way and the many things she had done while
there. Bob kept hoping she might be able to return the coming year,
although the letters she wrote gave him no encouragement to hope.
"Merry Christmas, Bob," called his aunt, as he came in from doing his
chores on Christmas morning, and she handed him a handsome gold watch
and chain.
"Merry Christmas, Aunt Bettie," he replied. "Who is this from?"
"That's from your Uncle Joe and me," said his aunt, "and a Merry
Christmas I think it should be, for I heard your uncle say yesterday
that you finished the last foot of wire fence and that all the
concrete work was done, except some garden furniture.
"It has certainly been a busy year for you, Bob," continued his aunt;
"when I think of all that has been accomplished, it seems almost
inconceivable how we changed the old place in such a short time, and
how much more comfortable we are now than when I first came to the
farm in April. Do you know, Bob, one of the nicest buildings we have
on the farm is Tony's little cottage down by the pond. I am never
tired of looking at it."
"It is a handsome building, Aunt Bettie, down there under those big
elm trees," said Bob, "and with the pond back of it, it has a very
homelike appearance."
"What are you planning to do this winter, Bob, now that the concrete
work is practically all done?" she asked.
"Well, I was thinking, Aunt Bettie, now that Brookside has shown its
earning capacity, that we might get the pipe ready for the overhead
irrigation system in the field over by the main road, and build a pump
house down near the pond. The more I read and think of intensive
cultivating, the more I believe there's a lot of money can be made by
this method. Of course, if we don't want to raise potatoes, we could
easily raise celery or other vegetables, and you know we can get four
crops a year off the ground instead of one, if we plant it right, and
fertilize it heavy enough."
"We'll do no work to-day, Bob, for this is a holiday, so we'll just
have a good time. Did you get your new clothes from the tailor?"
"Yes, I got them last night. Maybe I'll dress up to-day just to see
how they look," he added, smiling back at her.
"Why are we having such a large table for Christmas dinner, Aunt
Bettie?" he asked a little later in the morning, as he passed through
the dining room and saw the table extended to an unusual size.
"I didn't know but some one might drop in for dinner on Christmas,"
said his aunt evasively.
"Why, is there some one coming, Aunt Bettie?" he asked.
"You just wait and see," spoke up his uncle, who came into the room.
"All right," said Bob; "I guess I'll have to wait."
"That reminds me," said his uncle, winking at his wife. "I forgot
something in town that I was to bring out. John White asked me to stop
around at the bank, so I'll have to go back--guess I'll have time to
get in and back again before dinner."
"We won't have dinner to-day until 12:30, Joe," said his wife, "so if
you start now you ought to be back easily by that time," she added
smiling.
When the new house at Brookside was planned, a small room had been
built on the first floor to--be used as a sort of an office. In this
room a flat-top desk with drawers had been placed and a bookcase to
contain all their bulletins and other information had been built at
one end in a convenient place. The set of books containing the cost
accounting system of the farm was kept in this desk. In this room Bob
also kept a small draughting board and his instruments. At odd times
he sketched new buildings and other things for the improvement of the
farm. He now went to this room and began work again on the designs of
some garden furniture, which they were planning to place on the
sloping ground in front of the house the following spring. He was busy
at work when his attention was attracted by the sound of an automobile
coming up the driveway. He looked out of the window as the car flashed
past; he recognized some of the faces, and rushed out to the porch to
great them.
There was something very unfamiliar about the car as it came up the
driveway. As it drew near he saw the reason, for instead of the Ford
his uncle had taken to town, he was now sitting in a new seven-
passenger Buick. In the front seat, with his uncle, sat Bob's father,
and in the back seat was his mother, with his grandmother and
grandfather on either side of her.
Bob had rushed out bare headed to greet them. He kissed his mother and
grandmother and shook hands with the others.
"Well, what do you think of your Aunt Bettie's Christmas gift, Bob?"
asked his uncle, as they got back on the porch and turned around to
look at the new car.
"What do you mean, Aunt Bettie's Christmas gift?" he asked.
"The new car," said his uncle.
"Is that her car, Uncle Joe?"
"Yes, I just bought it for her--that's her Christmas gift. Isn't it a
dandy?"
"Whee! It surely is," said Bob. "Does she know yet that you bought
it?"
"No, that's a surprise that's coming to her," and they both ran into
the dining room where she was busy with the dinner, to escort her out
to inspect the car.
Bob had never seen his aunt so happy as when she inspected the car and
his uncle insisted upon her getting into the seat, as he explained to
her the operation of the levers. Her eyes were bright with joy when
she got out of the car a moment later and went back to her dinner and
her guests.
"It was very kind of you, Joe, to remember me in this way," and her
eyes were suspiciously wet. "I feel more than repaid for all the work
I have done to help you build up Brookside Farm."
Christmas Day at Brookside was an event long to be remembered, for not
only had Bob the pleasure of explaining to his mother and father the
work they had been doing all summer and telling them of their plans
for the coming year, but during the afternoon a large auto truck
arrived at the house and unloaded a fine piano and victrola, the
latter with a dozen well-selected records.
His aunt couldn't believe her eyes when this second Christmas present
arrived. The only satisfaction she could get from her husband was that
he and John White had talked it over and decided that they needed some
music at Brookside to brighten their evenings. After supper that
night, his Aunt Bettie sat down at the piano and began to play.
It was only a few minutes before they were all gathered around the
piano singing. Naturally, the first song was Edith's "Happy Farmer";
they were just in the midst of the song when the door opened and in
walked Tony and Maria. After a few minutes' interruption, they started
singing again--Tony and his wife joining in with the others.
Once the singing started there was no stopping them and for several
hours they sang song after song. It was really the first time since
Brookside Farm had become a reality, that they had a chance to let
each other know just how happy they felt, as they gave vent to their
feelings in song.
"I'm only sorry," said Bob's aunt, "that my own father and mother
couldn't have lived to see the happiness and joy that has come to us.
This has been the happiest Christmas Day I have ever spent."
"Bob!" called his uncle. "Come here a minute. I almost forgot to give
you something. Here's a letter that John White asked me to deliver to
you."
Bob took the letter, read it and then re-read it, his face a puzzle.
What is it? "asked his uncle smiling.
"I don't know," said Bob; "it's a peculiar kind of a letter, and I
don't understand it at all."
"Let me see it," asked his father, and Bob handed him the letter.
After looking at it a moment, he read aloud:
"This is to certify that we have this day bought the sixty acres of
land adjoining Brookside Farm, on the east, for the sum of Eighteen
Hundred Dollars ($1800), to be held in trust for Robert Williams, and
to be turned over to him whenever he wishes to take possession. The
sum of $1800, the purchase price, to be paid to the First National
Bank at his convenience and draw six per cent. interest until paid.
The first payment of One Hundred Dollars ($100) on account, is hereby
acknowledged. (Signed), The First National Bank, John White,
President."
"What does it mean, Uncle Joe?" asked Bob, looking at his uncle, who
was smiling across at him.
"Well, it simply means this, Bob: John White wanted to make sure when
you got ready to buy a farm that there'd be one waiting for you. He
persuaded Bruce Wallace to sell him his sixty acres adjoining
Brookside on the east. He said he wanted you to have the land next to
Brookside. That was the only piece that had the proper exposure and
good water; besides this, he pointed out that the water from our pond
runs through this also, and that there is a place there where you can
have a pond of your own, if you want it."
"What about the $100 on account, Uncle Joe?" asked Bob.
"Oh," laughed his uncle, "that's your Christmas gift from John White."
Bob was silent while he tried to realize the full purport of the
letter. Then he suddenly said:
"I've no money to buy a farm, Uncle Joe."