"I'm glad the old job's done," said Ruth, "for Edith has been making me write all the names and numbers in a book and it's been a terrible job, Uncle Joe--a good deal worse than running the concrete mixer."

At nine o'clock the family retired and had been in bed but a short time when a severe thunderstorm broke over Brookside Farm. Bob had seen many storms in his eighteen years, but never one so violent as the one which now burst in fury upon them. Peal after peal of thunder followed the bright flashes of lightning, as they struck all around them. The house fairly rocked on its foundations and the storm was so severe they all got up and dressed. Bob had never been frightened by a storm before, but as the heavy claps of thunder followed each other almost as fast as he could wink, he shivered a little at the thought of what would happen if the lightning should strike the house. The whole family a.s.sembled in the sitting room wondering what might happen. Bob walked over and stood beside Edith, who was looking out of a window. Involuntarily she leaned against him for protection, and he caught and held her trembling hand. They were standing thus looking out at the storm, when suddenly a brighter flash than any of the others, followed immediately by a loud clap of thunder, almost stunned them. Edith swayed and would have fallen to the floor had Bob not caught her in his arms. Though stunned himself, he managed to keep her from falling, and had scarcely recovered from the shock, when as he looked out through the window he saw the barn was in flames.

"Our barn's been struck," he shouted, and they rushed to the window to look, and sure enough the barn was in flames.

Joe Williams reached for his hat to start out in the storm, but felt a detaining hand on his arm.

"Joe," said his wife quickly, "there's not an animal in the barn, and besides there's scarcely any hay or grain left, and what other things are there, certainly are not worth your risking your life. About the only thing you'll lose will be the harness and some small tools," and catching him firmly by the arms, as she felt him pull away, she continued:

"I'm not going to let you risk your life for those things. There are no other buildings near by that the fire can damage. The rain is coming down in torrents, and it will prevent the flames setting anything else on fire. Let's all go out on the porch and watch it burn," she added, and while the storm continued unabated, they huddled together at the end of the porch watching while the barn slowly burned to its foundations.

"For how much did you have it insured, Joe?" asked his wife, as the fire died down.

"Five hundred dollars," said her husband.

"Well, it's a loss, I know," she said, "but it's lucky it burned now instead of later in the season, when it would have been full of grain and implements. I'm glad we've been keeping the live stock in the fields lately."

"Well," said her husband, "there's no use of crying over spilled milk or burned barns, so I say we all go back to bed, for the fire's nearly out and this rain would soon put out any new place it might start up."

"I think it's perfectly splendid, Uncle Joe," said Ruth, now that the lightning had ceased flashing; "this will give Bob and me a chance to build you and Aunt Bettie a new barn."

"All right," said her uncle; "you'll probably have a chance now, Ruth, to show us what you can do with a real building."

Hay making soon arrived and now that the barn had been burned, it was necessary that the hay should be cut and stacked in the field to be brought to the new barn later. It was fortunate, indeed, that the implements did not arrive until the week following the destruction of the barn and that the ones already delivered had been in the wagon shed out of danger--consequently they were all saved.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SIDE DELIVERY RAKE FLUFFS UP THE HAY AND LETS THE SUN DO ITS WORK QUICKLY]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SELF-LOADER MAKES POSSIBLE THE QUICK STORAGE OF PROPERLY CURED HAY AND SAVES TONS OF MAN-LIFTING POWER]

While Joe Williams was sorry to lose his barn, yet in a way he was glad, now that it was gone, for it had always been an eyesore, standing there between the house and the main road. While his wife, too, felt sorry for the loss, she was secretly happy that she could now carry out her plans and build a new house where the old barn had stood, giving it the prominence it should have. Her husband was sure this had been in her mind when they located the dairy house, for he saw it was in the right place to be a part of the group of buildings.

Ruth was in the hay field every day now, helping her uncle with the work. This work seemed to delight her more than anything she had found on the farm. She was very busy driving the hay rake one day when John White's runabout drove up into the barnyard. The banker, however, was not in the car. His nephew, Eddie Brown, and his chum, Herbert Potter, were the occupants. Bob, with Tony and four of the neighbors' boys, were putting the finishing touches on the cow barn and saw them coming. He was not particularly interested in them; they did not like farm work any more than he liked them, and their coming always annoyed him. He was evidently not to be bothered with their society, however, for they went into the house, and a few minutes later he saw them going over to the hay field, where Ruth and her uncle were working.

Bob was so busy with his work that he had practically forgotten them until he looked over and saw Edith at the apiary examining the bees.

With her was Eddie Brown, and Bob smiled as he noticed that Eddie was standing at a safe distance from the hives.

It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later when Bob again looked over into the hay field and saw the two boys with pitchforks turning hay, in a portion of the field that was swampy and full of elderberry bushes. He was still watching them when he saw Eddie use his fork to strike at something in the air and a moment later his friend Herbert did the same thing. Then as he and his helpers watched, the boys seemed to be striking all around them with their pitchforks. Suddenly Eddie and Herbert fell to the ground and began to roll, and Bob saw his uncle stop the team, jump from the mower and rush over in their direction.

There was no further doubt in Bob's mind what was going on. As soon as his uncle had gotten near them, he took a bundle of hay and struck in all directions as he rushed in and got one of the boys by his legs and started to drag him out.

Ruth, not to be outdone by her uncle, stopped her horse and rushed back and grabbed Eddie Brown's legs and started to pull him away. She no sooner had hold of his legs than she s.n.a.t.c.hed off her straw hat and began waving it frantically around in the air, then turned and rushed for the house as fast as she could go.

Bob looked to see what had become of Edith, and noticed her leaning against a tree near the apiary. Even at the distance he was from her, he could tell she was enjoying the situation as much as himself.

There was no question of what had happened. The boys had stirred up a nest of swamp b.u.mble bees, and instead of running away from them had stopped to fight them. It suddenly occurred to Bob that his uncle liked these two boys about as much as he liked them himself, and he figured it was perhaps for this reason his uncle had forgotten the existence of the b.u.mble bees, that he doubtless located when he ran the mower over them. Perhaps it was also for this reason he would not let Ruth rake there, but instead set the boys at work with forks.

As he watched, Bob saw them all go down to the brook where his uncle dabbed wet clay on the stings and where a few minutes later Edith joined them and escorted them back to the house.

Ruth was so badly stung that she was ill and her aunt put her to bed at once. The boys sat on the porch for a while, the picture of distress, listening to Edith narrate the story of the fight. Both of Herbert's eyes were swollen tight shut and Eddie was able to see out of only one of his. After sitting restlessly on the porch for a half hour, they got into their car and started for home.

"What are you laughing at, Tony?" asked Bob, as they watched the car disappear down the lane.

"The boys no-a like-a da work, and-a the bees they no-a like-a da boys."

"I guess that's about right," said Bob; "we probably won't see them again for some time."

XX

GOOD ROADS

As the Fourth of July approached, John White, the banker, and Joe Williams, proprietor of Brookside Farm, held a number of conferences.

It was finally decided to celebrate the Fourth with a picnic on the farm.

"I don't think we'll make it exactly a day of rest though," said the banker, "for I notice your wheat is just about ready for cutting, Joe.

Why not use the tractor to draw your new binder instead of the team."

"I'll have to do that anyway, whether I want to or not," smiled Joe.

"How's that?" asked the banker.

"Well, we have two of the finest little Belgian colts you've ever seen," he replied.

"Indeed!" exclaimed the banker. "They will be worth money to you."

"Yes," said Joe Williams, "those colts will easily bring from $150 to $250 by next spring."

"Now, you can see why it pays to keep good stock, Joe," said the banker. "No farmer should waste feed on horses that weigh less than 1600 pounds--from that on up to 2000 pounds is the coming horse in this country. Look what a difference there is in their capacity for work and a large horse really eats little more than a small scrub."

After some discussion it was decided that the County Commissioners should be invited to the picnic, also a representative of the Portland Cement a.s.sociation, to tell them about the making of concrete roads, and that Mr. Patterson, too, should be included in the invitation.

Shortly after moving to town, Bob's grandparents had gone for an extended visit to their relatives and had just returned to their new home a few days before the picnic, so on the morning of the Fourth, the first to arrive at Brookside were his grandparents. Bob was not only delighted to see them, but fully enjoyed their surprise at the changed appearance of the farm. Of course, the loss of the barn was one of the things that made the farm look different, but the neat wire fence, with its self-opening gates at the main road, the new buildings which were fast taking shape, and the replacing of the old pond with a field of fine growing corn, all helped to give the farm a changed look.

Bob's grandmother had evidently changed her mind regarding the son's trip to the poorhouse. Her rest from farm labor and the long visit among old friends had rekindled her interest in all things. She was as eager as a child and listened keenly as Bob took them from building to building and showed what had been done and explained the details and new devices; also the other buildings that were contemplated. His grandmother was delighted, most of all with the dairy and hen house.

"I tell you, Bob," she said, "you've certainly made the work light for a woman on this farm, and I'm glad now that Joe has been able to put in a modern farm equipment. I suppose the next thing you'll be doing will be to put up a new house and barn."

"Oh, yes, we've arranged that already, grandmother," said Bob. "You see, when the lightning struck the old barn we didn't have our plans made or anything, so after John White and Uncle Joe talked it over they decided to get Mr. Brady, the contractor, to help them out with the buildings. It would have been a pretty big job for Tony and me to get them all up this summer."

"You've really accomplished wonders already, Bob, with the dairy house, hen house and cow barn," said his grandmother.

"These are the contractor's tools and materials over here, grandma,"

said Bob; "he says he's going to have all the buildings finished by September first."

"Not the new house, Bob?"