“This is where the deacon lives. He is so sick I do not believe he will care to see you, so you had better remain in my carriage until I come out. I will say to him that you have come.”
Rob could do no better than to take up with this advice, though the time hung heavy on his hands until the physician reappeared.
“I have spoken to the deacon about you, and he seems greatly concerned over your welfare. I could not think of letting you see him in his present state. But, as your situation is such that something has got to be done at once, I will act for him for a few days, until we can see how he gets along. Now say to me just what you have come here to say to him.”
“I am sorry Deacon Cornhill is so sick,” said Rob. “Is there nothing I can do for him?”
“You show a pretty unselfish spirit to think of some one else before yourself, considering the hopeless situation you are in. I do not think you can do anything for the deacon at present. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“We need tools, sir, to begin work on the land, and we want to find chances to work so we can earn money.”
“Now you talk business. In regard to the first matter, I shall take the liberty to borrow of the deacon for you. In the second case, I have got to do a little thinking. How many of you wish places, and what can you do?”
“There is Larry Little; he’s eighteen and stout enough to do anything he knows about. Then there are Tom and Jerry, younger than he is, but they could do chores. Besides ’em, there is myself, who is willing to try anything.”
“None of you know much about farm work. But I will see in a little while. First I will look after those tools, and I will take them along with you as far as I am going.”
Dr. Menter, who was considerable of a farmer himself, having spent his boyhood on a farm, went into Deacon Cornhill’s tool house, soon coming out with two shovels, two hoes, an ax and a pickax.