XXIII
CHRISTMAS AT BROOKSIDE FARM
One evening a few days before Thanksgiving, shortly after they had moved into the new house, Bob sat before the open fire talking with his aunt and uncle, when the latter said:
"Bob, it's just a little over nine months since you came to live with us and turned our farm upside down, digging after 'Hidden Treasure.' Do you remember the Sunday we let the water out of the old pond?"
"Yes, I do, Uncle Joe."
"Do you remember the conversation you and I had that day?"
"I haven't forgotten that either, Uncle Joe," said Bob with a smile.
"Well, it's getting around kind of close to payday, don't you think,
Bob?"
"Oh, I don't need any money, Uncle Joe. I received $250 for my honey this fall, and I haven't spent very much yet."
"That's no reason why you should not be paid just the same. You've done your work. I don't know what you feel you've earned, but what would you say if I gave you $540—that's at the rate of $60 per month with board."
"Do you mean to pay me in money, Uncle Joe?"
"Of course, in money. I don't suppose you want to take it out in sand and gravel, do you?"
"No, Uncle Joe, of course not; but do you think I've earned that much money, Uncle Joe?"
"Yes, and more, but that's as much as I feel I can pay you, and if you stay with us another year, and we prosper as well as we did this year, what do you say to calling it $75 per month with board?"
"That'll be splendid, Uncle Joe, and I'll be perfectly satisfied."
"All right," said his uncle, "then it's a bargain, and here's your check for the money," and he handed him a check already made out and drawn to his order for $540.
"Thank you, Uncle Joe," said Bob, looking first at the check and then at his aunt and uncle in turn. "I hope you both feel I've earned it all."
"Oh, yes, you've earned it all right, Bob; don't worry about that," said his uncle.
"If I were you," said his aunt, "I'd stop in at Bush & Company, tailors, and have a couple of nice suits of clothes made—a specially good one for Sunday and another one for general dress-up wear. You should have a new overcoat, too, and some other nice things. You're nineteen years old now, Bob, and you've been working pretty hard this summer, and not paying much attention to your clothes. We'll like you just as well in your old clothes as we will in the new ones, but while you're a farmer, that's no reason why you should not have some good clothes, the same as other boys. You know, Brookside Farm has established a reputation, and while I don't believe in wasting money on clothes, I think we should all be dressed comfortably and be neat."
"All right, Aunt Bettie, I'll be going to town to-morrow and I'll take care of it."
Time flew quickly at Brookside Farm, while they hurried to finish their concrete buildings and get their new fences up before the ground froze up solidly.
After this was done, Joe Williams fixed up a lot of wire racks to take care of his seed corn, and carefully winnowed out his prize oats for good fertile seed. The chickens, too, claimed considerable of their combined attention.
Now that Edith had gone they both began to realize how much help she had been in her quiet way and the many things she had done while there. Bob kept hoping she might be able to return the coming year, although the letters she wrote gave him no encouragement to hope.
"Merry Christmas, Bob," called his aunt, as he came in from doing his chores on Christmas morning, and she handed him a handsome gold watch and chain.
"Merry Christmas, Aunt Bettie," he replied. "Who is this from?"
"That's from your Uncle Joe and me," said his aunt, "and a Merry Christmas I think it should be, for I heard your uncle say yesterday that you finished the last foot of wire fence and that all the concrete work was done, except some garden furniture.
"It has certainly been a busy year for you, Bob," continued his aunt; "when I think of all that has been accomplished, it seems almost inconceivable how we changed the old place in such a short time, and how much more comfortable we are now than when I first came to the farm in April. Do you know, Bob, one of the nicest buildings we have on the farm is Tony's little cottage down by the pond. I am never tired of looking at it."
"It is a handsome building, Aunt Bettie, down there under those big elm trees," said Bob, "and with the pond back of it, it has a very homelike appearance."
"What are you planning to do this winter, Bob, now that the concrete work is practically all done?" she asked.
"Well, I was thinking, Aunt Bettie, now that Brookside has shown its earning capacity, that we might get the pipe ready for the overhead irrigation system in the field over by the main road, and build a pump house down near the pond. The more I read and think of intensive cultivating, the more I believe there's a lot of money can be made by this method. Of course, if we don't want to raise potatoes, we could easily raise celery or other vegetables, and you know we can get four crops a year off the ground instead of one, if we plant it right, and fertilize it heavy enough."
"We'll do no work to-day, Bob, for this is a holiday, so we'll just have a good time. Did you get your new clothes from the tailor?"
"Yes, I got them last night. Maybe I'll dress up to-day just to see how they look," he added, smiling back at her.
"Why are we having such a large table for Christmas dinner, Aunt Bettie?" he asked a little later in the morning, as he passed through the dining room and saw the table extended to an unusual size.
"I didn't know but some one might drop in for dinner on Christmas," said his aunt evasively.
"Why, is there some one coming, Aunt Bettie?" he asked.
"You just wait and see," spoke up his uncle, who came into the room.
"All right," said Bob; "I guess I'll have to wait."
"That reminds me," said his uncle, winking at his wife. "I forgot something in town that I was to bring out. John White asked me to stop around at the bank, so I'll have to go back—guess I'll have time to get in and back again before dinner."
"We won't have dinner to-day until 12:30, Joe," said his wife, "so if you start now you ought to be back easily by that time," she added smiling.
When the new house at Brookside was planned, a small room had been built on the first floor to—be used as a sort of an office. In this room a flat-top desk with drawers had been placed and a bookcase to contain all their bulletins and other information had been built at one end in a convenient place. The set of books containing the cost accounting system of the farm was kept in this desk. In this room Bob also kept a small draughting board and his instruments. At odd times he sketched new buildings and other things for the improvement of the farm. He now went to this room and began work again on the designs of some garden furniture, which they were planning to place on the sloping ground in front of the house the following spring. He was busy at work when his attention was attracted by the sound of an automobile coming up the driveway. He looked out of the window as the car flashed past; he recognized some of the faces, and rushed out to the porch to great them.
There was something very unfamiliar about the car as it came up the driveway. As it drew near he saw the reason, for instead of the Ford his uncle had taken to town, he was now sitting in a new seven- passenger Buick. In the front seat, with his uncle, sat Bob's father, and in the back seat was his mother, with his grandmother and grandfather on either side of her.
Bob had rushed out bare headed to greet them. He kissed his mother and grandmother and shook hands with the others.
"Well, what do you think of your Aunt Bettie's Christmas gift, Bob?" asked his uncle, as they got back on the porch and turned around to look at the new car.
"What do you mean, Aunt Bettie's Christmas gift?" he asked.
"The new car," said his uncle.
"Is that her car, Uncle Joe?"
"Yes, I just bought it for her—that's her Christmas gift. Isn't it a dandy?"
"Whee! It surely is," said Bob. "Does she know yet that you bought it?"
"No, that's a surprise that's coming to her," and they both ran into the dining room where she was busy with the dinner, to escort her out to inspect the car.
Bob had never seen his aunt so happy as when she inspected the car and his uncle insisted upon her getting into the seat, as he explained to her the operation of the levers. Her eyes were bright with joy when she got out of the car a moment later and went back to her dinner and her guests.
"It was very kind of you, Joe, to remember me in this way," and her eyes were suspiciously wet. "I feel more than repaid for all the work I have done to help you build up Brookside Farm."
Christmas Day at Brookside was an event long to be remembered, for not only had Bob the pleasure of explaining to his mother and father the work they had been doing all summer and telling them of their plans for the coming year, but during the afternoon a large auto truck arrived at the house and unloaded a fine piano and victrola, the latter with a dozen well-selected records.
His aunt couldn't believe her eyes when this second Christmas present arrived. The only satisfaction she could get from her husband was that he and John White had talked it over and decided that they needed some music at Brookside to brighten their evenings. After supper that night, his Aunt Bettie sat down at the piano and began to play.
It was only a few minutes before they were all gathered around the piano singing. Naturally, the first song was Edith's "Happy Farmer"; they were just in the midst of the song when the door opened and in walked Tony and Maria. After a few minutes' interruption, they started singing again—Tony and his wife joining in with the others.
Once the singing started there was no stopping them and for several hours they sang song after song. It was really the first time since Brookside Farm had become a reality, that they had a chance to let each other know just how happy they felt, as they gave vent to their feelings in song.
"I'm only sorry," said Bob's aunt, "that my own father and mother couldn't have lived to see the happiness and joy that has come to us. This has been the happiest Christmas Day I have ever spent."
"Bob!" called his uncle. "Come here a minute. I almost forgot to give you something. Here's a letter that John White asked me to deliver to you."
Bob took the letter, read it and then re-read it, his face a puzzle.
What is it? "asked his uncle smiling.
"I don't know," said Bob; "it's a peculiar kind of a letter, and I don't understand it at all."
"Let me see it," asked his father, and Bob handed him the letter.
After looking at it a moment, he read aloud:
"This is to certify that we have this day bought the sixty acres of land adjoining Brookside Farm, on the east, for the sum of Eighteen Hundred Dollars ($1800), to be held in trust for Robert Williams, and to be turned over to him whenever he wishes to take possession. The sum of $1800, the purchase price, to be paid to the First National Bank at his convenience and draw six per cent. interest until paid. The first payment of One Hundred Dollars ($100) on account, is hereby acknowledged. (Signed), The First National Bank, John White, President."
"What does it mean, Uncle Joe?" asked Bob, looking at his uncle, who was smiling across at him.
"Well, it simply means this, Bob: John White wanted to make sure when you got ready to buy a farm that there'd be one waiting for you. He persuaded Bruce Wallace to sell him his sixty acres adjoining Brookside on the east. He said he wanted you to have the land next to Brookside. That was the only piece that had the proper exposure and good water; besides this, he pointed out that the water from our pond runs through this also, and that there is a place there where you can have a pond of your own, if you want it."
"What about the $100 on account, Uncle Joe?" asked Bob.
"Oh," laughed his uncle, "that's your Christmas gift from John White."
Bob was silent while he tried to realize the full purport of the letter. Then he suddenly said:
"I've no money to buy a farm, Uncle Joe."
"He doesn't say that you have to take it up right away, or that you have to pay for it by any particular time. You see, Bob, since the new concrete road has been built, farms are soon going to advance in price and he wanted you to have the advantage of buying yours at the original price. He feels you are largely responsible for the improvements that have been made in this section and that you should benefit by them."
"I guess we'll have to sing Edith's 'Happy Farmer' song again," said Bob's aunt, as she seated herself at the piano and struck up the familiar air, in which they all joined with a will.