‘I know,’ said Michael, heavy with misery. ‘I could get along, myself, but there are the children.’
‘You have your horse, haven’t you?’
‘Oh, yes, old Boro. He’s good and strong. I have been ploughing with him all day.’
‘How long shall you need him?’
‘To-morrow I shall finish all the land I can plant this year.’
‘Well, I’d like to hire Boro when you don’t need him. I can use more horses. Will you take a sack of meal and some goose eggs as part payment?’
Michael went home across the cold fields with a light heart, and the next day the spring work seemed to begin in earnest. Helen made pancakes for breakfast, Michael finished ploughing and began to sow, and Katherine and Basil filled a box with hay, as a nest for the goose.
Only a few days later Mr. Hall came to Michael with grave news. ‘My boy,’ he said, ‘I am going to leave here at the end of this month, and I want you to come with me.’
‘Going away!’ cried Michael, stupefied.
‘Yes, we are opening a Farm School at Kolpin. It is for orphaned boys, like yourself, who have land, but who are too young to work it. By the time they are eighteen or nineteen and are ready to go back they will know how to make the most of what they have. I wish you would come with us.’