“I hold land that I purchased for a song years ago. I hold it unimproved as the advance in land values, as the small farmers come in, amply repays me. But some of it I subdivided and sold at fat prices. Why, one of those farms has been foreclosed on five times in the last fifteen years. Each owner has added improvements, of course, but not what they should have done. If I could have had a series of really ambitious men on it, I now would own one of the finest farms in this section. But my farmers don’t seem to understand thrift.”
He sighed heavily as the maid set out the remains of the meal for our consumption. Dan, no doubt deeming imitation the sincerest flattery, seemed bent on equalling his host’s remarkable performance as trencherman. Mr. MacBride eyed each mouthful with scowling anguish, while with each succeeding minute his wife’s agitation increased.
“Really, my good man, your appetite is excessive, positively abnormal. I had thought of permitting you to work a few days for your board and lodging, but that is manifestly impossible. It would never do. Moderation, my good man, moderation should be the keynote in all things.”
We passed from the MacBride domicile in comparative quiet.
Dan soon had the puncture repaired and the wheel ready for the road. We mounted and presently were gliding through the streets of Council Bluffs.
A few hours’ inquiry convinced Dan of his inability to get work at his trade, but he heard that there was a chance of employment on a truck farm east of town, so we rode out to locate the place.
After some argument, we were engaged, I to do the housework, Dan to work in the fields. The farmer first offered a dollar a day between us, but we finally secured a dollar and a half a day and board. We were immediately put to work tying bunches of radishes, onions and other vegetables for market.
About ten in the evening, as we went to the bare room assigned us, the woman handed me an alarm clock set for four A. M. with orders to serve breakfast promptly at five so the men could be at work by five-thirty.
Nightmare days followed. Always up at four in the morning, I was kept constantly at work until after I had cooked the nine o’clock supper for two men who made the late trip to town each evening.
The house was a large one. There were four children, the man and his wife, an old aunt and five hired men besides Dan and myself to cook for. The laundry had remained undone since the last girl left, and present opportunities were not to be overlooked. Such heaps of soiled clothing I never saw before. Then, when cooking, cleaning, washing and ironing were done, if perchance there was half an hour to spare, I was set at the never-ending task of tying vegetables. On Sunday the mistress of the house wanted to know whether I could darn stockings, as I ought to be able to do a good deal of mending on that day. To cap it all, the couple quarrelled constantly, nagged the children and one another and railed at the poor old aunt by the hour. When not so engaged, the woman would snoop through our scanty belongings, ask me all manner of personal questions and follow me about with talk of the good home she was giving me and how few people there were who would take tramps and hoboes right into their own comfortable houses and care for them. Poor Dan was driven like a slave from dawn till dark and after, so at the end of a week, we concluded to take to the road once more.