Mr. Hunt, the man they wished to see, had left his shop before theyreached it, and was sitting in an open room at the back of his houseeating his dinner. His red flannel shirt sleeves were rolled up to theelbow, showing his coarse, sinewy arms; and his hair was all in atangle; but the moment Mr. Curtis saw him, he stepped forward, and shookhands as cordially as if they had been acquainted for years.
"I suppose you want your horse shod, Squire?" the man asked, lookingwell pleased at the cordial greeting. "I'll leave my dinner and go rightto the shop with you."
"No, indeed. Sit down; and if your wife will allow me, I'll do mybusiness here. I see you know me."
"Yes, sir, I've seen you at church; and I'm thankful that a man in yourstation has a heart to go there."
"And I listened to you teaching your Sabbath School class," added Mr.Curtis, laughing. "After that we couldn't be strangers long. Youremember your text, 'If ye love me keep my commandments.' But now tobusiness! I'm going to build a house and barn; and my men tell me you'rethe one to mend all my tools, shoe my horses, a kind of general Jack atall trades. I want to engage you to do all my business, and send me yourbill the first day in every month. Is that satisfactory?"
"Yes, sir; and I thank you, too. As you're a church-going man I'll makefree to tell you, Squire, you've taken a load off my mind. I've got alittle girl sick these eighteen months; and I've only been waiting forthe means to send her to a great doctor in the city. Now your promisemakes my way clear."
"I'm glad you told me, Mr. Hunt. Mrs. Curtis will call and see yourwife. I dare say between them they will contrive some plan to restorethe child, with God's blessing. Come, Bertie, we will go."
Mr. Hunt and his wife followed to the gate, very much amused at thesight of the donkey and his carriage.
The next morning, Mr. Curtis asked his wife,--
"How would you like to ride with me to the granite quarry? I am going tobuy underpinning for the house."
"If it isn't too far, I should enjoy it exceedingly."
"The drive there and back would be twenty miles; but you could lie downat the hotel and rest, if you choose, while I am at the quarry."
"I will get ready at once then. Shall we take the children?"
"Yes, if Bertie can leave his cares at Woodlawn."
The gentleman glanced archly at his son as he said this, and Bertieanswered, laughing,--
"I think I can trust Tom and Jim till I get back; but I don't understandwhat underpinnings are."
"You will learn that by and by. Now run and ask Nurse to dress Winnie,for I see Mike has the carriage out."
When they reached the quarry, they found it so difficult to drive thecarriage near to the rough building where they were told the owner couldbe found, that papa turned back and drove through one street to a finehotel. He called for a private parlor, and left mamma resting on thesofa with Winnie to keep her company, while he took Herbert to the largequarry, tied Duke, and went to see the huge blocks of granite that werebeing cut out.
It was about an hour before they were seated in the carriage again withtheir faces toward home.
"I wish you could have gone with me, Cecilia," papa began, "it is worthseeing. I found some blocks of granite exactly the size I want."
"Are they already hewn, Lawrence?"
"No, dear! but they will be ready and on the ground before we want touse them."
"What is _hewn_?" inquired Bertie.
"Don't you remember the rough pieces I selected, and those others sosmooth and polished next them?"
"Yes, sir."
"And didn't you see those men at work on a long shaft or pillar? Theyare called stone-cutters, and they were hewing them. They have a sharpinstrument with which they continually chop, chop, or strike; and thishews off the rough places, making the whole smooth. I engaged my posts,too, for the gates, Cecilia; and a curb-stone to lay on the top of thewall nearest the house. That makes a handsome finish."
"You did a great deal of business for so short a time, Lawrence."
He laughed. "I only spent about fourteen hundred dollars. It doesn'ttake long to do that. I fancy the owner thought he had done a goodmorning's work. He had heard of my purchase, and was coming to see me toengage the job. Oh, I forgot to tell you! I bought the steps, too. Threeflights, very handsome ones."
CHAPTER IX.
THE CELLAR.
One pleasant morning Bertie drove his father over to Woodlawn, and,after tying Whitefoot to a tree, ran as fast as he could go to thecellar. The day before it had been quite damp; and mamma didn't think itbest for him to go out. So he stayed at the farm and amused Winnie byplaying at dolls' visits with her till it was time for her daily nap,and then went to see Mrs. Taylor in the kitchen. Esther was shellingpeas for dinner; and he helped her till they were all done.
Now he was very anxious to see how much the men had dug. He had but alittle time to stay, for at ten he was to be at the farm to drive mammato the blacksmith's house.
He thought as he went toward the cellar that the men had all gone, forhe could see nothing of them. But when he reached the place, there theywere down so deep as to be out of sight from the new road.
They had dug a path all around the edge of the cellar, close to the linehis papa had marked out. The path was four feet from the ground whichwas as deep as it was to go. Now they did not try to throw out theirshovelsful upon the bank, they threw them on the great pile in thecentre.
Bertie stood still and watched them for some time, wondering what itcould mean. He did not suppose this great pile was to remain in themiddle of the cellar; and yet he did not see how it could be taken out.
The men were so busy he didn't like to interrupt them. Besides he didn'tfeel so well acquainted with them as he did with Tom and Jim. A goodmany times he had jumped on the drag, and the oxen had drawn him to theother part of the farm where the old stone wall was being pulled down.
At last one of the Irishmen looked up to the bank and saidpleasantly,--
"There's the little master come to see us."
"I thought you were lost," answered Bertie, laughing. "Will you pleaseto tell me what you are going to do with all that ground in the middleof the cellar?"
"The oxen are going to draw it out. You will see them presently."
"But how can the oxen get down there?" asked the boy, greatly surprised.
"Run round to the bulkhead, and you will see."
Bertie had no idea what a bulkhead was, or where it could be found; butas the man pointed to the other side of the cellar, away he ran to findit.
Now the mystery was explained. Just under the place where his father hadtold him the kitchen was to be, there was a kind of road leading downinto the cellar, and while Bertie was waiting, he heard Tom's voicecalling to Buck to "gee, back, back, sir."
There was no place to turn around in the cellar so the oxen had to backthe cart with its wide wheels down the steep road. As soon as they werein the right place, the Irishmen came and helped Tom load the cart full,which was very quickly done; and then Buck and Bright pulled away withall their strength till they were out on the level ground. This timethey did not carry the gravel far, and so were ready to back down againin a very few minutes.
"What makes this dirt look so different from that?" inquired Bertie,pointing to a pile of rich black loam.
"The top of the ground is always richer earth," answered Jim, who wasjust going by, driving Star and Spot. "Underneath it is only gravel."
"What is gravel good for?"
"It will do very well to put on roads, or to fill up with. I heard yourfather say he was going to make avenues and terraces with this."
"What are avenues?"
"Roads, drive-ways."
"What are terraces?"
Jim laughed aloud.
"I guess," he said, "if you don't get to be a Squire yourself some day'twont be for want of asking questions."
By this time the oxen were ready to be backed down the cellar, andBertie was obliged to wait until another time to f
ind out what terraceswere.
He waited till Jim came up and tipped his load of gravel upon the heap,and then he said,--
"I must go and find papa. I'm afraid it's almost ten o'clock."
"I can tell you what time it is," said Jim, looking up at the sun.
"How can you tell that way?" the boy asked, wondering.
"It's half past nine, ex-actly," remarked Jim, drawling out the lastword.
Bertie looked up at the sky, but could tell nothing about the time.
"It takes experience to do it," said the man, laughing at his perplexedlook. "I've had thirty-eight years to learn."
Bertie resolved to ask his father to explain how the sun could be madeto tell the time, and then not seeing him anywhere about, untiedWhitefoot, who had pulled away to the length of the rein, and was tryingto snatch a few mouthfuls of grass, and rode away to the farm.
CHAPTER X.
BERTIE AND WINNIE.
One morning, about a week after the ride to the quarry, Bertie took hissister Winnie in his donkey carriage and drove her to Woodlawn. It was apretty sight, and many of the villagers stopped with a smile to gazeafter them. Herbert with his clear blue eyes so like his father's, hischestnut hair waving off his forehead, his bright, healthy complexionand pleasant smile: Winnie with her close auburn curls, her laughingbrown eyes and cherry lips, formed a picture not often seen. Each ofthem wore a straw hat to shade their eyes from the sun, and the voice ofWinnie sounded like the warbling of a bird, as she gayly echoed herbrother's laugh.
"Mamma say I may dive Whitefoot drass," lisped the child, not yet havinglearned to articulate the letter g. "Whitefoot not bite me, no."
"Whitefoot is a good donkey. He never bites," answered Herbert,decidedly. "Now, Winnie, you must keep hold of my hand, and not run awayas you do at the farm. I sha'n't have time to chase after you as Nancydoes."
"I'm doin' to be dood dirl, Bertie, mamma say so. Winnie not doin' tomake mamma cry any more."
"Here we are; and there's papa on the hill. See all the men and theoxen!"
Winnie laughed, and clapped her hands.
They drove along till they came to the tree where Bertie sometimes tiedhis donkey, and then he carefully lifted his sister to the ground.
"Wait a minute," he said, "and I'll lead you to the big cellar."
But the little girl couldn't stand still. She was as full of life as asquirrel; and, when once upon her feet, ran to pull some grass forWhitefoot.
The donkey did not think much of the little spears she brought him, andput one by one into his mouth. He preferred to pull a whole mouthful atonce with his strong teeth; but he loved the children who were so kindto him; and so he stood very patiently taking her present of grass, verycareful not to bite the tiny fingers in which she held it up for hisuse.
I am glad to say that Bertie waited patiently for his sister to feedWhitefoot, though he was in a great hurry to see what Jim and Tom weredoing at the cellar.
Presently she grew tired, and taking her brother's hand, went with himacross the smooth grass to the site of the new house.
Bertie always bowed to the men and spoke very kindly to them; now hesaid,--
"I've brought my sister Winifred to see you work to-day."
Tom stopped his oxen a moment to gaze at the delicate little creature,and then said, laughing,--
"I suppose she's too small to ride on the drag. I'm going after a loadof stone; and I could take you both as well as not."
Bertie was sorely tempted. He liked very much to go with Tom, who sincethe time the child asked for the corn, had been quite guarded in hiswords; but mamma had told him to be very careful of his sister; and ifany accident should happen to her, he would feel so sorry. He glancedwistfully from Tom to Winnie, but then said, suddenly,--
"Thank you, sir, I'd like it, ever so much, but I'm afraid for Winnie.She's so little, and mamma trusted her with me."
"That's right," said a cheerful voice close behind them.
Mr. Curtis had come down from the hill, and was near enough to see allthat had passed. When Bertie's face flushed with a desire to go, he feltinclined to step forward and remonstrate; but when he saw that his sonyielded to the suggestions of conscience, his heart swelled with loveand gratitude to the good Spirit who was leading Bertie into the path ofpeace.
"Oh, papa! Winnie had dood ride," exclaimed the little girl, running totake his hand.
"And what do you think about the new house, pet?" asked papa, taking herin his arms.
"Winnie don't want to do down there," she said, pointing her tiny fingerto the deep cellar.
At this moment there was a great noise, which made the child clingclosely to her father's neck. Jim had backed his oxen to the very edgeof the bank, and pitched a load of stones down to the bottom of thecellar.
As Bertie looked over, he saw that all the gravel had been carried out;and now some men whom he had not seen before, were busy laying up thestones which Tom and Jim brought, in a nice, smooth wall.
"Have the diggers gone away, papa?" he asked.
"They have done their work here; and now they are digging a trench foran avenue."
"What is a trench, papa?"
"If you will come this afternoon I will show you. You may ride down bythe lake on Tom's drag; he will be at work there by that time."
"Oh, thank you, papa!"
He looked in his father's eyes, and what do you think he saw there? Itwas a look which made him feel very glad he had tried to do right, andit also made him resolve to ask God's help to be a good boy all thetime.
When Tom came back with a load, he pitched the stones down into thecellar a little way beyond the place where Jim had put his.
"I guess, Squire," the man said, "a few loads more'll be all the masoncan use to-day."
"I should think so, Jim. I'll talk with him about it, and let you knowexactly what he wants. Are there many more stones in the old wall?"
"There's enough for this and your barn cellar, and all the stuff you'llwant in your road, or I'll lose my guess, Squire," the man answered,laughing. "It does hold out wonderful. I s'pose you'll want us to makeclean work as far as we go."
"Yes, everything must be made smooth; I'm going to throw those twomowing lots into one. There's a great deal of time lost every year inmowing up close to the walls, and they seldom look neat even then. Thefewer boundaries the better, was my father's motto."
"Did you ever live in the country, Squire?"
"Yes, I was born and brought up on a farm."
"'Cause it's been a wonder to all the Oxford people," continued Jim,"where you picked up such a heap of farming knowledge. Folks say youcould keep a school and larn farmers a sight more'n they know now."
"I'm much obliged to Oxford for its good opinion," answered Mr. Curtis,with a merry laugh.
CHAPTER XI.
THE KIND BOY.
It does workmen good to hear a genuine, hearty laugh from their master.Even the stone-masons, who were straining every nerve to lift a largestone into its place, looked up with a smile, as Mr. Curtis' "ha! ha!ha!" echoed from the hill.
The gentleman walked along the edge of the bank leading Winnie, whileBertie, more cautious, kept at a respectful distance from the precipice.They came at last to the bulkhead where the road had been made to thecellar, and the gentleman, after a glance at Winnie's thin slipperslaced so nicely over the ankles, lifted the child again and walked downwhere the masons were at work.
"May I go too, papa?" asked Bertie.
"Certainly. Come, and I'll ask the workmen to show you how to make astone wall."
"And will you please tell me what a bulkhead is?"
"Do you remember the door where Mr. Taylor rolled down a barrel of iceinto his cellar this morning?"
"Yes, sir. I didn't know there was any door there. Winnie and I used tosit on those boards and eat our lunch."
"Well, that is called a bulkhead. I don't know why that name should beused, for the real meaning of the word is a partition in a ship whic
hmakes separate apartments. Perhaps it is so called, because articles ofconsiderable bulk are put down through it, and stored in the cellar.When the stonelayer comes to that part of the cellar, you will see howhe builds up a place each side of that road; and then the carpenter willmake doors to fit down upon it. When we want to put coal or wood, oranything heavy into the house, instead of carrying them through thecarpeted halls and down the nice stairs, we only have to open thetrap-doors and carry them down the steps, or put on a plank board androll them down, as farmer Taylor does."
Bertie now was standing near the stone-masons and watched closely everymovement. One man was preparing a place for a large stone, while theother was chipping off the front edge with a sharp instrument called acold chisel.
When he thought it smooth enough they took hold together and tipped itover and over; sometimes using their hands, or iron bars, and sometimespieces of strong wood to put it into place, until at last they had itfitted into the wall.
Bertie noticed that they chinked or filled in all the little holes withthe small stones so as to make the wall as compact as possible. Hisfather told him that after the whole was done, they would fill everyhole with cement, which, after a few days, would become so very hardthat not even the tiniest mouse could creep in. This, the mason informedhim, was called "pointing the cellar wall."