“At work, sir, getting ready to do a little planting, as——”
“Weren’t you ordered to move out of these regions, young man?”
“We have moved, sir,” replied Rob.
The chairman of the board of selectmen was about to reply, when his companion touched him on the arm, and a hurried consultation took place between them. Just what they said Rob was unable to tell, but he knew well enough that it had reference to their present situation, for at its conclusion the twain drove away without speaking to him again.
“P’raps you’ve learned where you are,” said Rob to himself, as he went to the house, where he found the best supper awaiting him that he had ever eaten in his life, his recent work having given him an appetite he had never felt before.
It was a happy company of friends that rested under the old red house roof that night, even if the majority of them slept on pallets of straw.
The following morning Rob was astir early, feeling pretty sore after his work of yesterday, but the sun was not very high when he reached the home of Deacon Cornhill to begin his first day’s real work.
He learned that the deacon was very ill. He did not see Mary, but was told that she was getting along very well with her work.
It would be tedious, perhaps, to describe the events of the following week. But it showed considerable advance in certain lines with the colonists of the young republic. Rob worked every day at Deacon Cornhill’s, going home to Break o’ Day every night and returning in the morning. This made it harder for him, but he felt that he was needed to look after matters at home.
This was made doubly important from the fact that Larry, Tom and Jerry, with the smaller boys, showed no disposition to begin work. Joe had bravely undertaken to spade up the ground to be planted, until Rob had requested her to stop. On Saturday, a day that will never be forgotten by the members of the young republic, Rob stayed at home to begin the garden, which needed attention.