By noontime the walls and floors had been mopped with water from the brook, a makeshift desk had been constructed from old lumber, and several rickety but serviceable chairs had been located in other buildings.
“We should have done this a long time ago,” Bill said, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, “even if it was just for a clubhouse. It’s real neat!”
Before leaving for lunch they agreed to return that afternoon and begin work on some of the items Ronnie had written on his list at breakfast that morning. “The road from the highway comes first,” he decided. “Then, cleaning up the buildings we’re going to use in our tour. Then, the sign.”
Phil groaned. “I just remembered,” he announced. “I’ve got a date with the hammock for the afternoon.”
When Ronnie came within sight of his own house fifteen minutes later, he recognized Mr. Caldwell’s station wagon parked near the back door. He’d already left Phil a good distance behind, so he began to run, afraid that he might already have missed something of importance.
Mr. Caldwell was in the barn, talking with Ronnie’s father. He looked up and smiled in the boy’s direction as Ronnie entered. “Hello, Ronald,” he said.
“Hi!” Ronnie answered.
Ronnie tagged along behind his father and Mr. Caldwell as they walked slowly from the barn and then stopped alongside Mr. Caldwell’s car for a few final words. Then Mr. Caldwell climbed into his station wagon and started the engine. Ronnie waved good-by.
“Dad,” he asked, following his father back to the barn, “what did he want?”
“Supposing you come up in the loft with me and help pile up the hay you knocked down the other day. Then I’ll be able to get the rest of it in after it’s finished drying on the fields. I’ll tell you about Mr. Caldwell while we work.”