Bob's heart beat quickly on Monday morning, as he looked out from the barnyard in the direction of the old mill and saw the smoke coming from the steam shovel that Mr. Brady had placed at the lower end of the ditch, ready to start operations. Brady evidently intended to do the work in the shortest possible time, for while Bob was still looking, the operator started the machine, and Bob saw the shovel sink deep into the soft earth and a moment later swing over to the north side, and the first yard of dirt had been removed. He even forgave the contractor for his attempt to drive a sharp bargain in his written contract, though he remembered Brady's embarrassment when his uncle pointed out the defects in his written agreement and hastily signed the corrected one made by John White. Bob could scarcely realize that it was little more than a week since the eventful Saturday afternoon he had spent fishing in the old pond. He was whistling merrily as he brought out the horses to start the spring plowing. "I don't like to spoil that merry tune of yours so early Monday morning, Bob, but I've been in a quandary for several days to know how to tell you that it isn't going to be possible for you to go to the wedding," said his uncle. "You see, some one will have to stay on the place while we're away, and your grandmother and grandfather ought to go, and, of course, I'll have to be there myself," he laughed. "That's all right," replied Bob. "Of course, I'd like to go to the wedding, but I'll have lots of time to get acquainted with Aunt Bettie afterwards, and, besides," he added, glancing at the sun coming over the hill, "we ought to get our spring plowing started as soon as possible. I was just wondering, Uncle Joe," he added, "who we could get to look after the sand pit and start making fence posts. I was reading in one of the 'Concrete on the Farm' bulletins how they're made. It isn't going to be much of a job to receive the tickets for sand and gravel that Mr. Brady'll take away, and the man in charge can spend practically all of his time making fence posts. He ought to make at least 20 posts each day--that would mean that in a month we would have 520 posts--enough for 520 rods of fence--or in a year 6240 rods." "But you couldn't make fence posts in cold weather, Bob," corrected his uncle. "Why, yes, you can, Uncle Joe, if you have an enclosed shed with some heat in it. The bulletin tells all about how to do concrete work in cold weather." "Well, I'll look around to-day, Bob, and see who I can find. I have to go to town at noon to attend to some business. You have to get a license, you know, so I'll have to attend to that before I forget it. Shall I plow around for the first time or two for you, Bob?" asked his uncle, as they hitched the team to the plow. "No," said Bob. "I'd like to try it myself," and he guided the horses along the fence for the first furrow.