“You know I’m a big fellow: I want considerable room to turn round in; almost as much as a ship wants to go about.”
“But you’ll not want half of this.”
“You know I want a corn-house overhead, and if we finish the rooms in the chamber of the house, your mother would like to have some rough place for her spinning and weaving in the summer, and to keep her flax and wool in; and then what a handy place it would be to keep ploughs and harrows, the Twilight, my canoe, and their sails, when we want to haul them up in the fall! O, there’s always enough to put in such a place; besides, you know I shall want a cider-house.”
Charlie burst into a roar of laughter.
“A cider-house! and the orchard ain’t planted yet.”
“Well, the ground is cleared for it, and the chamber will be a nice place for Sally to dry apples.”
“Yes, when we get them.”
“We shall get them; I like to look ahead.”
The frame was raised and covered, and Ben parted off twenty-five feet from the end farthest from the house, and laid a plank floor in it; the other half had no floor. After laying the floor overhead, in that part next to the house, he parted off the space for the corn-chamber, and made stairs to go up to it.