Part 33 (2/2)

Books and studies, save such as beautiful Mother Nature provided, had been almost forgotten by Roger.

”Wa'al,” began Mr. Kimball, ”when it comes t' school, I've a sort a'

proposition t' make. Ye see, ef it hadn't bin fer Roger, I wouldn't 'a'

had any salt spring, 'n' 't ain't no more 'n' common justice thet he should hev a part on it.”

”Uncle Bert!” cried Roger.

”Now, young man,” interposed Mr. Kimball, good-naturedly, ”young folks should be seen 'n' not heard, ye know. 'S I were sayin',” turning to Mr.

Anderson, ”Roger's got t' hev some sheers in my salt spring. Now I hed thought a' puttin' a certain sum t' his credit in th' bank.”

Mr. Anderson made a gesture of dissent.

”Jest wait 'til I git through,” said Mr. Kimball. ”I ain't give up th'

notion yet, but what I want t' say is, I think Roger ought t' use part of it t' go t' college 'ith. That's what I've planned t' do fer Adrian, here, 'cause there ain't nothin' like eddercation fer a boy, er a man either fer thet matter. I didn't hev no chanst when I were young. Hed t'

git out 'n' hustle on th' farm when I were ten year old, so I know th'

value a' larnin'. 'N' t' college my boy goes, now I'm well enough off t'

send him,” and Mr. Kimball clapped his hand down on his leg with a report like a small gun.

”I'm sure I don't know how to thank you,” began Mr. Anderson. ”I--”

”Then jest don't try,” broke in Mr. Kimball, very practically. ”We'll consider it all settled.”

The women folks started to go in the house, while Mr. Kimball and Mr.

Anderson walked a little way toward the road. Presently they heard a great shouting.

”What's that?” asked Mr. Anderson.

”Reckon it's th' boys, skylarkin',” replied Mr. Kimball. ”They're allers up t' suthin' er other.”

The men walked over toward the sounds, which were evidently of mirth.

There, under the two big cherry trees that stood at the gate, rolling in the sweet gra.s.s, were the two cousins; and Roger was sitting astride of Adrian, shouting at the top of his voice:

”I threw him! I threw him! It was a fair fall! Now who's the best wrestler?”

”Yes, but you can't do it again,” panted Adrian, as he struggled unsuccessfully to rise.

”Roger throwed him!” cried Mr. Kimball, capering about, almost as much pleased over his nephew's victory as Roger himself was. ”So ye throwed him fair, eh? Wa'al, I told ye we'd make a Cardiff boy outen ye, ef ye stayed long 'nuff. By Gum! Throwed him good 'n' proper! Now mebby he'll think some un 'sides him kin ra.s.sal.”

”Well, well, but that's a big improvement in Roger,” said Mr. Anderson, coming up as the boys resumed their feet. ”He's twice as strong as when I sent him up here. The air and suns.h.i.+ne of the country have made him what he ought to be--a healthy, st.u.r.dy boy.”

The lads clenched again, rolling over and over in the long gra.s.s. The last vestige of daylight disappeared, the chirping of the crickets became louder, the tree-toads croaked with stronger voices, and it was night in the valley of Cardiff.

THE END

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