"No," said Bob, "we're not willing to do that, but we will make this bargain with you, Mr. Brady: if you will do our work for us right away, we'll agree not to charge you more than fifty cents a cubic yard for as much sand and gravel as you want."

Seeing there was no other way out of the matter, the contractor finally consented to this arrangement.

"I'm not much on verbal contracts," he said, "for I find that people who do not set down in black and white what they agree to do, often forget and then there's trouble, so if you don't mind, Mr. Williams, we'll step into the house and put our agreement in writing."

"How shall we arrange to keep account of the amount of materials I get?" asked Mr. Brady, as they started for the house.

"How do you usually do?" asked Bob.

"I've got some tickets with my name on them," replied the contractor, "and every time a man takes away a load he gives one of those tickets to the man in charge of the pit. By the way, I suppose there'll be some one in charge who can take care of these tickets?"

"Yes," said Bob quickly, before his uncle had a chance to speak.

"We're going to start a man making fence posts at the pit next week and you can give the tickets to him."

A few minutes after they had sat down at the table in the sitting room Mr. Brady handed the agreement to' Bob's uncle to read. He read it over and then handed it to Bob, who read it over twice, very careful, and then laid it down on the table.

"It reads all right, Mr. Brady, and seems to be just what we agreed to do," said Bob, "but before we sign it I'd like to show it to Mr.

White, president of the First National Bank."

"All right, son, just as you like," said the contractor, a look of disappointment on his face as he put his fountain pen in his pocket.

"I'll be here on Monday with my men and outfit, for I'm sure Mr. White will find the agreement is all right."

"I think it is myself," said Bob, "but I'd like to have him read it over anyway before it's signed."

As they walked out to the barnyard, where his car was standing, the contractor turned to Joe Williams and asked:

"How do you manage to get up and down that steep hill with your automobile, Mr. Williams?" "Oh, I don't have an automobile," Williams replied.

"What! no car?" exclaimed Mr. Brady. "I don't see how your women folks get along without one. Cars are so low and horses so high nowadays, it don't pay to take a horse out of a busy team to drive to town. I should think you couldn't do without one. Well, good day," he added, as he climbed into his car and threw on the self-starter. "See you next week."

VII

THE NEW AUNT

The following week was a very busy and eventful one for Bob. Plowing time was rapidly approaching, and his uncle was anxious to have all the manure placed on the fields ready to start work early; besides, they had taken a day off at Bob's urging to prune the young orchard.

On Thursday he received a large package of Farm Bulletins from the Department of Agriculture at Washington, in reply to a postcard he had sent. He had only time for a hasty glance through them, before having to lay them away for careful reading later.

On Friday his uncle turned over the team to him, saying he was going to town for the day. Bob noticed that he had dressed up in his best clothes, so was not surprised when he came in from work late that afternoon to find they had company at the house.

"Come here, Bob," called his uncle cheerily, as he entered. "I want you to meet your new Aunt Bettie. She isn't exactly your aunt yet, but she will be soon."

Bob hastened forward to take the out stretched hand of the woman who rose to greet him.

Bob had a quick eye for beauty; he noted the fair, soft complexion which the rich dark hair set off so beautifully, but not this alone made the strong and conscious appeal to him--it was the frank manner with which she took his hand and the friendly light in her lovely brown eyes that won Bob completely.

"So this is 'Bob,' of whom you have been telling me," said Miss Atwood. "I'm certainly glad to make your acquaintance, Bob. Your Uncle Joe has been telling me many things about you, and I know we're going to be fast friends and have lots of fun together on the farm this summer."

"I hope so," said Bob, "for I like farming better than anything I know; there are so many interesting things to see and do."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Bob," she replied. "In these days, when most boys of your age want to be in the town and cities, it's refreshing to find one who has vision enough to appreciate the golden opportunities of the country. Your Uncle Joe doesn't know it, but I've been doing considerable reading myself about farm life and farm work since we became engaged, and the more I read the more enthusiastic I become, and I'm sure we're going to have lots of pleasant days and evenings, too, together."

"Have you been reading farm bulletins, also, Aunt Bettie?" Bob asked hesitating, as he used her new t.i.tle for the first time.

"That's right, I want you to call me 'Aunt Bettie'," she replied quickly, seeing his embarra.s.sment. "Yes, I've gotten a great many bulletins from the Department of Agriculture at Washington and have read them over and over very carefully. The opportunities on a farm, if one just keeps his eyes open, are certainly wonderful."

"I'd like to read your bulletins, too," said Bob, his eyes sparkling.

"I thought you were going to give up teaching school, Bettie,"

interrupted her intended husband, "and here you and Bob are getting ready to start one. First thing you know, you'll be getting another scholar, one six feet tall," and he laughed down at her.

"Well, frankly, Joe," she replied, "you might spend your evenings less profitably than reading bulletins and other interesting papers on making farms pay."

"Guess I'll have to get in line," he replied laughing. "Bob's been preaching to me ever since he came here about modernizing the old farm and digging up our 'Hidden Treasure,' as he calls it."

"You'll have to excuse me now, Aunt Bettie," said Bob, "for it's milking time and I always plan to milk our cows regularly."

His heart was light and he whistled a merry tune as he started for the barn, the milk pails on his arm. He now felt sure that this summer was going to be the happiest one he had ever spent.

After the supper dishes had been cleared away, they sat together and talked of the things to be done to improve the farm and which would be the best crops to plant. As the discussion continued, Joe Williams began to realize that both Bettie and Bob knew many things about farming of which he was ignorant--things which, he reluctantly admitted to himself, were of the utmost importance.

On Sat.u.r.day they quit work at noon to go to town. Bob asked his uncle if he were going to take Mr. Brady's contract and show it to Mr.

White, the banker.

"The bank closes at noon on Sat.u.r.days, Bob," replied his uncle, "and we're to be pretty busy, Bettie and I, buying our things, for we're getting new furniture for the house, and I want to bring it back with me."

"Perhaps Mr. White doesn't go out of town on Sat.u.r.day and I could find him at his home," said Bob. "I think we ought to have the matter settled before Mr. Brady gets here on Monday morning with his tools.

It might make some difference if he started work before the agreement is signed."

"All right, Bob, you take the contract and try to find him. I'll be too busy loading the furniture to bother with it."

So as soon as he arrived in town, Bob left the wagon in front of the furniture store where his uncle, who had driven in with Miss Atwood in the buggy, was waiting. He hurried over to the First National Bank.

The bank seemed to be closed, but the entrance door was unlocked, and after some time he found the banker in the directors' room going over some papers.

"Back already for your money, Bob?" laughed the banker, as he opened the door to admit him.

"No, Mr. White, I haven't yet found a better investment for the money.

I came to see you about our sand pit. A Mr. Brady, who says he has the contract to build some bridges for the new railroad, wants to buy our sand and we have made a bargain with him and he put it in writing. We didn't sign it, for while it seems to be all right, Uncle Joe would like to have you look it over first."

"Oh, indeed," replied the banker, "and whose idea was it that I should read the contract before signing?"

"Well," hesitated Bob, "we thought maybe it would be better to be sure it was all right since you're loaning Uncle Joe money for the farm."

"That's right, Bob; that's only fair. Follow out that principle and you'll always get along."

He took the paper and read it through carefully and laid it down. Then he reflected a moment, picked it up and read it again. Then he whistled softly.