Part 17 (1/2)

A furrow was now made of which Mr. Jones himself need not have been ashamed; and he laughed as he said, at parting ”You'll do. I see you've got enough Yankee in you to try more ways than one.”

We kept at work manfully, although the day was warm, and by noon the plot was furrowed one way. After dinner we took an hour's partial rest in sh.e.l.ling our corn and then resumed our work, and in the same manner began furrowing at right angles with the first rows. The hills were thus about four feet apart each way. Merton dropped the corn after we had run half a dozen furrows.

”Drop five kernels,” I said; for Mr. Jones had told us that four stalks were enough and that three would do, but had added: ”I plant five kernels, for some don't come up, and the crows and other vermints take others. If all of 'em grow, it's easier to pull up one stalk at the first hoeing than to plant over again.”

We found that putting in the corn was a lighter task than planting the potatoes even though we did our own furrowing; and by the middle of May we were complacent over the fact that we had succeeded with our general spring work far better than we had hoped, remembering that we were novices who had to take so much counsel from books and from our kind, practical neighbor.

The foliage of the trees was now out in all its delicately shaded greenery, and midday often gave us a foretaste of summer heat. The slight blaze kindled in the old fireplace, after supper, was more for the sake of good cheer than for needed warmth, and at last it was dispensed with. Thrushes and other birds of richer and fuller song had come, and morning and evening we left the door open that we might enjoy the varied melody.

Our first plantings of potatoes and early vegetables were now up and looked promising. So a new phase of labor--that of cultivation--began.

New broods of chickens were coming off, and Winnie had many families to look after. Nevertheless, although there was much to attend to, the season was bringing a short breathing-spell, and I resolved to take advantage of it. So I said one Friday evening: ”If to-morrow is fair, we'll take a vacation. What do you say to a day's fis.h.i.+ng and sailing on the river?”

A jubilant shout greeted this proposal, and when it had subsided, Mousie asked, ”Can't Junior go with us?”

”Certainly,” I replied; ”I'll go over right after supper, and make sure that his father consents.”

Mr. Jones said, ”Yes,” and Merton and Junior were soon busy with their preparations, which were continued until the long twilight deepened into dusk.

CHAPTER XXIX

WE GO A-FIs.h.i.+NG

The following day, happily, proved all that we could desire. The children were up with the dawn, and Junior was not long in joining us.

By eight o'clock we had finished breakfast and the morning work, our lunch-basket was packed, and the market-wagon stood at the door. Mr.

Jones had good-naturedly promised to take a look at the premises occasionally to see that all was right. I had put but one seat in the wagon for my wife and myself, since the young people decided that a straw-ride to the river would be ”more fun than a parlor-car.”

My wife entered into the spirit of this little outing with a zest which gave me deep content. Her face indicated no regretful thoughts turning toward the Egypt of the city; her mother love was so strong that she was happy with the children. The robins, of which there seemed no end about the house, gave us a tuneful and hilarious send-off; the grown people and children whom we met smiled and cheered, following us with envious eyes. Each of the children held a pole aloft, and Merton said that ”the wagon looked as if our Lima-bean patch was off on a visit.”

In the village we increased our stock of lines and hooks, and bought a few corks for floats. We soon reached the mouth of the Moodna Creek, where stood a weather-beaten boat-house, with a stable adjoining, in which old Bay could enjoy himself in his quiet, prosaic way. A good-sized boat was hired, and, as the tide was in, we at first decided to go up the creek as far as possible and float down with the ebb.

This, to the children, was like a voyage of discovery, and there was a general airing of geography, each little bay, point, and gulf receiving some noted name. At last we reached a deep, shaded pool, which was eventually dubbed ”Bobsey's Luck;” for he nearly fell into it in his eagerness to take off a minnow that had managed to fasten itself to his hook.

Merton and Junior, being more experienced anglers, went ash.o.r.e to make some casts on the ripples and rapids of the stream above, and secured several fine ”winfish.” The rest of us were content to take it easy in the shade and hook an occasional cat and sun fish. At last the younger children wanted variety, so I permitted them to land on the wooded bank, kindle a little fire, and roast some clams that we had bought at the boat-house. The smoke and the tempting odors lured Merton and Junior, who soon proved that boys' appet.i.tes can always be depended upon.

Time pa.s.sed rapidly, and I at last noticed that the tide had fallen to such a degree as to fill me with alarm.

”Come, youngsters,” I cried, ”we must go back at once, or we shall have to stay here till almost night.”

They scrambled on board, and we started down-stream, but soon came to shallow water, as was proved by the swift current and the ripples. A moment later we were hard aground. In vain we pushed with the oars; the boat would not budge. Then Junior sat down and coolly began to take off shoes and stockings. In a flash Merton followed his example. There was no help for it, and we had no time to lose. Over they splashed, lightening the boat, and taking the ”painter,” or tie-rope, at the bow, they pulled manfully. Slowly at first, but with increasing progress, the keel grated over the stones, and at last we were again afloat. A round of applause greeted the boys as they sprung back into the boat, and away we went, cautiously avoiding shoals and sand-bars, until we reached Plum Point, where we expected to spend the remainder of the day. Here, for a time, we had excellent sport, and pulled up sunfish and white perch of a very fair size. Bobsey caught so large a specimen of the former variety that he had provided himself with a supper equal even to his capacity.

The day ended in unalloyed pleasure, and never had the old farm-house looked so like home as when it greeted us again in the evening glow of the late spring sun. Merton and Junior divided the finny spoils to their satisfaction, while Winnie and I visited the chicken-coops and found that there had been no mishaps during our absence. I told my boy that I would milk the cow while he cleaned the fish for supper, and when at last we sat down we formed a tired, hilarious, and hungry group. Surely, if fish were created to be eaten, our enjoyment of their browned sweetness must have rounded out their existence completely.

”O papa!” exclaimed Merton, at the breakfast table, on Monday morning; ”we haven't planted any musk and water melons!”

”That is true,” I replied. ”I find that I overlooked melons in making out my list of seeds. Indeed, I pa.s.sed them over, I imagine, as a luxury that we could dispense with the first year.”