"Pshaw! the cost of a building is nothing to you," Mr. Rand answered,laughing. "The thing to be considered is whether you like it."
"What do you say, Cecilia?"
"It does not look home-like. The ground is high enough without mountingto the towers to see the prospect. I have an idea in my own mind if Icould explain it to you."
"Try, if you please, Mrs. Curtis."
"I want, first of all," the lady began, "to have the room in which weshall live, in the most pleasant part of the house. It ought to beeighteen feet by twenty-five, the front finished with a largebay-window, and also a window on each side looking out on a piazza. Thisroom should project from the main house about twelve feet, the space oneach side filled with a piazza. On one side of the main building I wouldhave a large parlor for state occasions; on the other, the dining-roomand library, and back of the large sitting-room on the other side of thespacious hall, which occupies the middle of the house, and well lightedfrom above, will be the kitchen. Below, in a basement, I would have aroom fitted with tubs, boilers, etc., for a wash-room, and out of it thelaundry. The chambers, well provided with closets, must be for afterconsideration."
"A capital plan!" exclaimed the architect. "You have given me a verygood general idea; now if you will particularize or express in detailwhat kind of finish suits your taste, I will draw you a plan that Ithink you will accept; but wouldn't it be an addition to run up a towerat one corner? It would be very imposing."
"That is my principal objection. We are intending to settle in thisquiet village. We hope to pass the rest of our lives here. We mean to beone of the people. If our house is too grand it may not be so easy forour neighbors to approach us, or for us to gain access to their humblecottages. Besides, if we are not extravagant, and too far above them,they will try to imitate us. Instead of the square, upright, though neathouses they have now, they will see how much expression a little porchor portico will give to their dwellings."
Mr. Rand folded his portfolio together without another word, while Mr.Curtis laughingly remarked,--
"You see, my wife has set her heart on doing good here. She already hasmade friends with all the workmen at Woodlawn, and acts in the capacityof Doctress to their families."
This was Wednesday; and Saturday Mr. Rand came again, gayly announced byBertie, who cried out,--
"Mamma, here's the architect."
The plan was examined and highly approved. The whole party rode to thelake, where Mr. Rand helped Mr. Curtis measure off the land ready forthe cellar, the architect having agreed to erect the whole building,hire masons and carpenters, and painters and plumbers, and whoever elsewas necessary, as soon as the underpinning was ready to set the houseupon.
When Mr. Curtis went away he left the large portfolio, which mamma toldBertie, contained not only the picture of the house which he admired somuch, but a written account of every room, closet, hall, window and doorto be put in it. "These," she said, "are Mr. Rand's specifications; thatis, he specifies exactly what kind of doorknobs we shall have, or thecost and finish of the silver faucets connected with the bowls in thechambers."
Bertie clapped his hands, dancing up and down. "I know, mamma," heexclaimed, "I do know, and when I'm a man I shall ask Mr. Rand to writespecifications for me."
CHAPTER V.
THE DONKEY.
Before Mr. Curtis had engaged men to dig his cellar, Miss Susan Taylorclosed her school for the season.
"I'm afraid Bertie will be wild with excitement," mamma said one day toher husband, "I wish he had some regular employment."
"I've been thinking of that, my dear," he answered.
"There is a great deal of knowledge to be gained beside that in books.Our son is inquisitive and eager, and will learn a great deal by beingallowed to watch the operations as they proceed. When he sees the workof the different trades, and what belongs to a mason, or carpenter, hewill remember it much better than if he read it in his book."
"But, Lawrence, I'm afraid he will learn bad words from some men youwill employ; or if not, he may be in their way."
Mr. Curtis smiled. "As to the first," he said, "we must train ourchildren so well at home that they will know better than to imitate rudemanners or rough expressions. So far, I am happy to say that I havenever seen men more free from profanity than those I have met in thisquiet village.
"As to your second objection, an occasional caution will be all that isnecessary for Herbert. And if he should cause a little delay by hisquestions, I will see that the men are no losers."
"But how will he get back and forth so many times in a day?"
"That question will be solved to-morrow, Cecilia; next to the hope ofbenefiting your health, my object in removing to this place is toeducate our children for usefulness. A few dollars more or less, toaccomplish that end, will never be regretted by either of us."
"If Bertie ever makes as good a man as his father, I shall be content,"remarked the lady, smiling.
"And if Winnie learns to imitate one half her mother's virtues, I shallbe a happy father," he returned, bowing with an arch glance in her face.
After dinner the next day, Nancy, the nurse, was giving the children abath, preparatory to a walk around the farm, when a man drove into theyard with the queerest little carriage you ever saw. The carriage wasdrawn by a funny-looking animal, with long ears and awkward-shapedlegs.
"Papa, mamma!" shouted Bertie, "look, see what has come; see what aqueer horse."
Mr. Curtis went to the door and his wife followed him.
"I've brought you a donkey at last," said the man, jumping briskly fromthe carriage.
"Is he docile?" asked papa.
"He's as tame as an old sheep. He's five years old. A gentleman boughthim for his children; and they've made a plaything of him. The littlegirl cried when I drove him away. I couldn't have bought him at anyprice until I gave my word he should have the best of care. The younggentleman himself can harness and unharness him, and for the matter ofthat he can drive all over the country with him."
All this while Bertie had been palling grass and feeding the patientcreature; but now he sprang a foot from the ground, exclaiming, with aflush of joy,--
"Papa, papa, did you buy the donkey for me? is it mine?my own?"
"Yes," answered papa. "It is your's; and I shall ask Mr. Taylor to giveyou a stall in the barn, where you can feed it and groom it yourself."
"Oh, papa! I'm going to be a real good boy, I'm so very much obliged toyou; may I ride a little now?"
"He ought to have some oats before he's used much," said the man whobrought him. "He's travelled twenty-five miles this morning."
"I'll give him some, right away."
"Jump in then, and drive him to the barn," said papa. "I see Mr. Taylor,and I'll talk with him about entertaining your donkey. That was one morethan he agreed to board."
Bertie knew by his papa's mouth that he was joking, and, more happy thanI can tell you, he jumped into the funny carriage and began to pull atthe reins. But the donkey had begun to nibble the sweet, fresh grass anddid not like to move.
"Go along," shouted the boy, "go along," and then the animal pricked uphis ears, and trotted off to his new home in Mr. Taylor's great barn.
CHAPTER VI.
DRAGGING STONES.
The next morning the donkey was as good as new, farmer Taylor said, ashe taught Herbert how to harness him into his wagon. "Hold your reins uptaut, like this, my boy. Hurrah! I never did see a sight like thatbefore. Such a turn-out will astonish the natives."
Bertie drove up to the door and then called out,--
"Mamma, mamma, can't Winnie go too. I'll bring her home safe in time forher nap."
"Not to-day, dear. Wait till you have learned a little how to manage."
When Bertie turned into the field, he saw that business had commenced inearnest. There were two men, each with a pair of oxen and a flat pieceof wood attached to them by a heavy iron chain. The men were hawing andgeeing when he drove near; but they stopped s
hort and stared when theysaw him.
"What kind of a critter do you call that now?" one man asked, aftersquirting a whole mouthful of tobacco-juice from his mouth.
"It's a donkey, sir."
Bertie's mamma had taught him to be polite to every one.
Both the men came up to the creature, patted him, felt of his ears, andone began to pull his mouth open.
"Please, sir, don't hurt him," urged Bertie, twitching the reins. But,then, looking at the patient oxen, he said,--"Will you please tell mewhy you don't have a cart instead of that flat board?"
"'Tisn't a board; it's a heavy piece of plank; and it's called a drag.If you're over at the place presently, you'll see what it's for. Come,Bright," he shouted, touching the ox nearest him. "Gee up."
The other man followed, though he often looked back, laughing to see thedonkey carriage and the little boy driver.
"There's a good bit of things in the world that we never see," he saidto his companion. "The Squire's son is a pert little chap, isn't henow?"
"He's the politest young un I ever see," was Tom's answer.
Bertie, meanwhile, drove through the field,--there was quite a good roadnow,--and on by the lake to Woodlawn. His father was standing near acompany of men who were digging with spades, throwing the dirt outbehind them.
Bertie jumped from his wagon and threw the reins upon Whitefoot's back,and instantly the tame creature began to taste the grass.
"I'm going to stay here till dinner, papa; what shall I do with mydonkey?"
"Take off his harness, and let him feed; I don't think he'll stray away.At any rate you can try him. You must begin to teach him to come to youwhen you call."
The little fellow drove the wagon under the shade of a tree; and verysoon Whitefoot, finding himself at liberty, walked slowly off towardthe lake, nibbling grass as he went.
"Now," said papa, "you may walk about wherever you please. You are oldenough to keep out of danger. When the men come with the oxen you willsee them unload."
"What are all those men doing, papa?"
"They are Irishmen whom I hire by the day to dig the cellar to our newhouse. Do you see these sticks driven into the ground?"
"Yes, papa, and the string tied to them. What is it for?"
"It is to mark out exactly the line where the cellar is to be. See, thisis the front of the house; and I have measured twenty feet. Your motherwishes the room to be eighteen feet wide; and it is necessary to allowone foot each side for the thickness of the walls, the plastering, etc."
"But, papa, here is another stick only a little way off. Wont mamma'sroom be larger than this?"
"Yes, it extends back into what is called the main building. Don't youremember in Mr. Rand's plan how this room projects, or comes out, beyondthe rest?"
"Oh, yes, papa; I understand now, and right here where I stand, thepiazza will be. Wont it be very pretty?"
"I think so; but we must thank mamma for the plan. It was her tastesuggested it to the architect."
"Mr. Taylor says mamma is the most wonderful woman he ever saw," repliedthe boy earnestly.
"Mr. Taylor is a wise man," said papa. "I entirely agree with him."
"Oh, see how hard the oxen are pulling! Wont that wood break theirnecks?"
"That is a yoke, and they are used to it. They are dragging stones forthe cellar."
"Why don't they put the stones in a cart, papa?"
"Because, though it would be rather easier for the oxen to draw them, itwould be harder for the men to load and unload."
"Are stones very heavy indeed?"
"You can try to lift one."
"I can't move it one mite, papa. I don't see what good they will do inthe cellar."
"No, I suppose not; but you will learn."
"Haw, Bright! Come up, Buck!" shouted Tom.
Both the oxen pulled with all their strength; but the ground was softand rising. Bertie could not see that the drag moved an inch.
Tom lashed and lashed the patient creatures, shouting with all hismight. When he found this did no good he began to swear.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Bertie, shrinking behind his father.
"Stop!" said Mr. Curtis, in a firm, clear voice. "You must throw offpart of your load; and I want to say one thing now. I'll do all theswearing that's done on the place."
Tom's face grew very red; but he did not speak. For one instant hestood, and looked into his master's eye. He knew then, as well as hedid a year afterward, that the Squire meant exactly what he said.
Two large stones were thrown off; Buck and Bright pulled again, and soonthe heap on the drag was lying by the side of the other stones.
Before the oxen went away for another load, Bertie had found out thatthe names of the other pair were Star and Spot, from some white marks ontheir forehead. He had learned, too, why drags were better than carts todraw large stones with.
CHAPTER VII.
THE BOY TEACHER.
While he was following his father about, Bertie forgot to watch hisdonkey. When it was near dinner time, Mr. Curtis said,--
"Don't go off till I see you, Herbert, I want to ride to theblacksmith's; and you may drive me there."
The boy started and began to look in every direction, hoping to seeWhitefoot quietly feeding on the lawn.
But neither on the hill, nor behind the chestnut grove could he be seen.Bertie's lip quivered, and then the tears filled his eyes.
"He's gone, papa; my pretty donkey is lost."
"Don't cry, my son," said Mr. Curtis, in a cheerful tone. "Crying for adonkey never brought one back, that I ever heard of. Take a handful ofcorn from Tom's pail, and run toward the lake. Call him by name andperhaps he will come."
Bertie hesitated, his cheeks growing very red. At last, when papawondered what made him delay, the little fellow asked,--
"Can't I wait till Tom comes back? I'm almost sure he'll give me some ofhis corn; but mamma told me never to touch anything that belongs to themen, without asking their leave."
"Mamma was right, my son, as she always is; and I'm greatly pleasedthat you remember her instructions. There is Tom coming with a load,now, you may run and ask him to give you a handful of corn to call yourdonkey with. Perhaps he has seen the creature somewhere."
Bertie was off like a dart that has been shot from a bow; and his fathercould see him gesturing away as he walked back at Tom's side.
"Did you come all this way to ask for a few kernels of corn?" asked theman, staring at the child in wonder. "Why, you might have taken a pint,and neither I nor the oxen would ever have known it."
"But God sees everything we do," said the boy. "I knew 'twas yours,'cause I saw you turn it out of a bag; and I couldn't touch it withoutyour leave, you know."
"Well, now, I must say you're the honestest little shaver I ever didsee," answered Tom, regarding the child almost with awe. "If it had beenmy boy, he'd snatched up the corn and run off with it, and never havethought another breath about it."
"Mamma teaches me how wicked it is to steal," Bertie went on. "Perhapsyour boy," gazing anxiously in the man's face, "hasn't any mother toteach him."
Tom's mouth worked convulsively; and presently he wiped his eyes withhis dirty shirt sleeve.
"No, he hasn't," he answered. "She's dead this six months."
They were now almost back to the cellar, and after a moment's silence,Tom added,--
"If the corn was mine, you'd be welcome to as much as you want of it;but it's in the agreement that the Squire shall give the oxen their feedat noon. So I bring along the corn from the store; and he pays thebill."
"Oh, I'm glad, I'm real glad," shouted Bertie, bounding away.
"Whitefoot, Whitefoot!" he called, at the top of his voice; "Whitefoot!come."
"There's your donkey," shouted Jim, "coming up the hill with Star andSpot. There, just behind that big oak by the lake."
So Bertie called again, "Whitefoot--Whitefoot!" and presently the donkeygave a little neigh in reply. I suppose he wanted to say, "I he
ar you,my young master, and I'll go as quick as I can;" for he started off atonce into a brisk trot. Very soon, to Bertie's great delight, the lostdonkey was eating the corn out of his hand.
When the men walked side by side on their way to the old wall which theywere pulling down for stone, Tom repeated to his companion what hadpassed between him and Bertie.
"That's the kind o' religion I believe in," he exclaimed, making afurious gesture with his brawny arm. "The Squire isn't one of yoursot-up men who thinks working-folks are made of different stuff, andhaven't any more souls than a beast. He lives his religion rightstraight through the week instead o' keeping it bottled up for Sundayuse, like some long-faced men I could name."
"Jes so," answered Jim, with an approving nod.
"Do you suppose I'd ever cheat him out of the valley of a cent artersuch a lesson as that boy give me? No, not for my right arm. I know whenI'm treated like a man."
"You got a pretty hard hit this morning, then," muttered Jim, glancingsideways in his companion's face.
"Wall, I deserved it, I'll own up to that. I'd no business to talk suchstuff before the Squire, letting alone the boy. I'll let him do theswearing in futer, as he's agreed to."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE UNDERPINNING.
"What are you going to the blacksmith's for?" inquired Bertie, as hetook the reins, proud to show his father how well he could drive.
"I'm going to engage him to mend the tools that the men break. It's veryconvenient to have a blacksmith so near. In the town where my parentslived, there was no blacksmith within three miles. My father was obligedto go all that distance to get his horse shod."