By the middle of April, the people of Sudbury had made up their minds that Joel Burns was neither crazy nor exactly a hermit, nor yet a fool, though some candidly admitted they had been fools when they so judged of him. For by the middle of April a saw-mill with a double set of saws had been put in operation, and was turning out the lumber rapidly. Quickly the knowing ones saw into it, (but they did not see into it till Joel had made his demonstration,) and now wondered why they had overlooked the speculation. One very keen fellow determined to make the most out of Joel's beginning. He examined the records at the office of the register of deeds and discovered that Joel had title to but a hundred acres. Thereupon he went to New-York with the object of purchasing the adjacent lands. Imagine his chagrin, when he was told Joel had the refusal of the whole tract. With a low cunning he endeavored to make the old merchant dissatisfied with the sale, by telling him that he had parted with his property for a quarter of its value--in fact, had given it away. He would have offered twice the money himself. 'I am glad to hear you say so,' was the only reply the fellow received, 'for I take a great interest in that young man. So he has got his mill a-going, has he? Good.' 'But if I should offer you ten dollars an acre for the next hundred-acre-lot, don't you think you could manage to let me have it?' 'No.' What an excitement there was when our smart man returned and gave an account of his trip. Then followed all sorts of rumors. Joel was in partnership with a rich old fellow in 'York,' who was going to let him have all the money he wanted. There was to be a new village right away, situated somewhere--on the ridge--on the stream--across the creek--on the plain--under the hill. What wouldn't the speculators give to know _just_ where! With the erection of the saw-mill, several little huts went up near it for the use of those employed there. These huts were not made of logs--there was plenty of lumber now--but cheaply constructed and clap-boarded with slabs. Some of the Sudbury wits derisively called the place 'Slab City.' The lumber-men seemed to like this name, for they at once adopted it, and it has never been known by any other. But before this, a remarkable event occurred, affording still greater food for town-talk and gossip generally. The neat log-house on the ridge had been comfortably furnished, and Ellen Bellows--now Ellen Burns--installed as its mistress.