THE NEW HOME
The next few days were busy ones for Mrs. Thompson and for Randy. The
landlord of the cottage in which they lived was notified that they were
going to move, and then the woman set to work to get ready to vacate,
while Randy went over to the other place to put the house in condition
for occupancy.
While Randy was at work Jack came to see him, and insisted upon lending
a helping hand. Randy had brought over some of his father's tools and
also some nails, and he purchased at the lumber yard a few boards and
other pieces he thought he needed.
When he once got at it, it was astonishing how well our hero used the
tools, making several repairs that would have done credit to a regular
carpenter. The broken window was replaced, and the missing door found
and rehung, and several clapboards nailed fast. Then Randy mended the
porch, and put a score of shingles on the roof. This done, the chimney
was cleaned out and also the cistern, and the well was also overhauled.
In the meantime Jack pulled out a lot of weeds and trained a wild
honeysuckle over the porch. At the end of four days the place looked
quite well.
"It's a hundred per cent. better than it was," declared Jack. "It
didn't look like anything before."
"I'll get a can of paint to-morrow and paint the door and the window
frames," said Randy, and this was done. He also whitewashed the
kitchen, and kalsomined the other rooms, so that the interior of the
cottage was sweet and clean.
When Mrs. Thompson saw the change which had been wrought she was
delighted.
"I declare, it looks as well, if not better, than the cottage we are
in," she cried. "And the outlook toward the river is ever so much
nicer."
"Just wait until I have the garden in shape," said Randy. "You won't
know the spot."
"What a pity we did not know of this place before."
"Mother, I think we ought to buy it if we can."
"Perhaps we shall, Randy, before the five years are up."
At length came the day to move. A local truckman who knew Mr. Thompson
well moved them for nothing.
"You can do some odd jobs for me some time," said the truckman to Louis
Thompson.
"Thank you, I will--when I am able," answered the sufferer.
A good deal of the pain had left Mr. Thompson, but he was weak, and to
start to regular work was out of the question. Another friend took him
to his new cottage in a carriage. He gazed at the old place in wonder.
"Well, it certainly is improved!" he ejaculated. "We shall get along
here very well."
The moving was done early in the morning and by nightfall Randy and his
mother had the cottage in tolerable order. The stove was set up and
found to draw good, and the water from the well tasted fine.
"Now there is one thing certain," said Randy, "Mother, come what may,
we shall have a roof over our heads."
"Yes, my son, and I am grateful for it," answered Mrs. Thompson.
"Uncle Peter may be a hard man to get along with, but he has certainly
helped us."
The next two weeks were busy ones for Randy. Jerry Borden was true to
his promise and not only did some plowing for the Thompsons but also
helped Randy to put up a new fence, partly of stone and partly of
rails. It was agreed that Borden should have the use of part of the
little farm for pasturing, and in return was to give the Thompsons two
quarts of milk a day and two pounds of butter per week, and also a
dozen fresh eggs a week while the hens were laying.
"That will certainly help us out wonderfully," said Mrs. Thompson.
"Butter, eggs, and milk are quite an item of expense."
"And that is not all," said Randy. "I am going to help Mr. Borden with
his haying soon and he is going to pay us in early vegetables."
The haying time was already at hand, and Randy soon pitched in with a
will, much to his neighbor's satisfaction.
One day Jack came to bring good news. His father had secured a position
with an iron works at Albany, on the Hudson River.
"It will pay him a fair salary," said Jack.
"I am glad to hear it," answered Randy. "What will your family do,
remain here or move to Albany?"
"We are going to remain here for the present, but, if the place suits
father after he has been there a while, then we'll move."
"Have you learned anything more about the Bangses?"
"Mrs. Bangs and Bob are on a summer vacation."
"Yes, I know that. I meant Mr. Bangs."
"He is in full charge at the iron works here and drawing a salary of
eight thousand dollars a year. Father says he will run the works into
the ground so that the stock won't be worth a cent."
"Can't your father do anything?"
"Not yet. But he is going to watch things. There was some trouble over
a contract and he is trying to get to the bottom of that," continued
Jack.
When Randy went to work for Farmer Borden he came into contact with the
farmer's son Sammy, a tall, overgrown lad of fourteen, with a freckled
face and a shock of red hair. Sammy hated to work, and his father and
mother had to fairly drive him to get anything out of him.
"City folks don't work like farmers," remarked Sammy to Randy. "They
jest lay off an' take it easy."
"How do you know that?" asked our hero, in quiet amusement.
"'Cos I once read a paper of the sports in the city."
"Some rich folks don't work, Sammy. But all the others work as hard as
we do."
"I don't believe it," said Sammy, stoutly. "Wish I was a city lad. Oh,
wouldn't I jest have the bang-up time, though!"
"Sammy Borden!" cried his mother, shrilly. "You get to work, an' be
quick about it."
"I'm tired," answered the freckled-faced lad.
"Tired? Lazy, you mean! Git to work, or I'll have your paw give you a
dressin' down!"
"Drat the luck!" muttered Sammy, as he took up his pitchfork. "I wish I
was born in the city!"
"Come on, Sammy," said Randy. "The work has got to be done, so don't
think about it, but do it."
"Huh! Work is easy to you, Randy Thompson! But it comes hard on me!"
And Sammy heaved a ponderous sigh.
The haying was in full blast early in July and Randy worked early and
late. He wanted to get through, so that he might go at his own garden.
Sammy dragged worse than ever, and finally confided to our hero that he
wanted to go to the city over the Fourth.
"Have you asked your folks yet?" asked Randy.
"No, but I'm a-goin' to," answered Sammy.
"Well, if you go, I hope you have a good time," said our hero. "I'd
like to see a Fourth of July in the city myself. I've heard they make a
good deal of noise, but I shouldn't mind that."
"Gosh! I love shootin'," said Sammy.
"Aren't you afraid you might get lost?" pursued Randy.
"Lost!" snorted Sammy. "Not much! Why, you can't lose me in the woods,
much less in the city."
"The city and the woods are two different places."
"I don't care. I'd know what I was doin'."
"It costs money to go to the city."
"I want to go to Springfield."
"Have you any money saved up?"
To this Sammy did not answer. Then Mr. Borden came along.
"Sammy, get to work!" he called out. "Don't let Randy do everything."
"I was workin'," grumbled the son, as he started in again. "You can't
expect a feller like me to pitch hay all day long."
"I have to work all day," retorted his father.
"It ain't fair nohow."
"If you want to eat you'll have to work."
Sammy pitched in, but grumbled a good deal to himself. Soon his mother
called him and he went off to the house.
"That lad is gettin' lazier every day," said Jerry Borden. "I declare,
I don't know what to do with him."
"Maybe he needs a vacation," suggested our hero.
"Well, he can't have one until the hayin' is done," declared the
farmer.