Country life -- Juvenile fiction; Families -- Juvenile fiction; Farm life -- Juvenile fiction; New York (State) -- Juvenile fiction
After we had piled on as much of a load as the rude, extemporized rack
on my market wagon could hold, I added, "You needn't go to the barn
with me, for I can pitch the hay into the mow. Rake up another load, if
you feel able."
"Oh, I'm all right now," he protested.
By the time I had unloaded the hay, I found that my wife and Mousie
were among the raspberries, and that the number of full, fragrant
little baskets was increasing rapidly.
"Winifred, isn't this work, with your walk to the Bagley cottage, too
much for you?"
"Oh, no," she replied, lightly. "An afternoon in idleness in a stifling
city flat would have been more exhausting. It's growing cool now. What
wretched, shiftless people those Bagleys are! But I have hopes of them.
I'm glad Bobsey's having a nap."
"You shall tell me about your visit to-night. We are making good
progress. Bagley is doing his best. Winnie," I called, "come here."
She brought her basket, nearly filled, and I saw that her eyes were
heavy with weariness also.
"You've done well to-day, my child. Now go and look after your
chickens, big and little. Then your day's work is done, and you can do
what you please;" and I started for the meadow again.
By six o'clock, we had in the barn three loads of hay, and Merton had
packed four crates of berries ready for market. Bobsey was now running
about, as lively as a cricket, and Winnie, with a child's elasticity,
was nearly as sportive. Bagley, after making up his half-hour, came up
the lane with a rake, instead of his ugly dog as on the evening before.
A few moments later, he helped me lift the crates into the market
wagon; and then, after a little awkward hesitation, began:
"I say, Mr. Durham, can't ye give a feller a job yerself? I declar' to
you, I want to brace up; but I know how it'll be down at Rollins's.
He'll be savage as a meat-axe to me, and his men will be a-gibin'. Give
me a job yerself, and I'll save enough out o' my wages to pay for his
chickens, or you kin keep 'nuff back to pay for 'em."
I thought a moment, and then said, promptly: "I'll agree to this if
Rollins will. I'll see him to-night."
"Did yer wife go to see my wife?"
"Yes, and she says she has hopes of you all. You've earned your bread
to-day as honestly as I have, and you've more than paid for what my
wife gave you this morning. Here's a quarter to make the day square,
and here's a couple of baskets of raspberries left over. Take them to
the children." "Well, yer bring me right to the mark," he said,
emphasizing his words with a slap on his thigh. "I've got an uphill row
to hoe, and it's good ter have some human critters around that'll help
a feller a bit."
I laughed as I clapped him on the shoulder, and said: "You're going to
win the fight, Bagley. I'll see Rollins at once, for I find I shall
need another man awhile."
"Give me the job then," he said, eagerly, "and give me what you think
I'm wuth;" and he jogged off home with that leaven of all good in his
heart--the hope of better things.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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