“To be sure; but it’s very small and inconvenient. But wait till we get the windmill going.”
“Is this your telescope?” cried Tom.
“Yes, Tom; but it’s too small. You’ll have to work hard on my big one.”
“Yes, uncle,” said Tom, with quiet confidence, as he eagerly examined the glass with its mounting, and the many other objects about the place, one of which was a kind of trough half full of what seemed to be beautifully clear water, covered with a sheet of plate-glass.
“There, as soon as you’ve done we’ll go to the mill, for I don’t want to lose any time.”
“I could stay here for hours, uncle,” said Tom. “I want to know what all these things are for, and how you use them; but I’m ready now.”
“That’s right. The men are coming this morning to begin clearing away.”
“So soon, uncle?”
“Yes, so soon. Life’s short, Tom; and at my age one can’t afford to waste time. Come along.”
Tom began thinking as he followed his uncle, for his words suggested a good deal, inasmuch as he had been exceedingly extravagant with the time at his disposal, and much given to wishing the tedious hours to go by.