“Mr. Hayes tells me that you’re a high l’arnt boy,” said she; “an’ I’m glad to hear it, ’cause we won’t need to send our boys off to school now. We lose their work every winter, an’ that’s something we can’t afford to do. We want you to take ’em in hand, an’ l’arn ’em figures an’ sich. It haint never done George Washington an’ John Warren no good to go to school; ’cause last winter, they thrashed the teacher, an’ the deestrict committee turned ’em out doors. They haint never been to school none since. Somehow them boys never did get along; but they’re good boys, an’ I can manage ’em easy enough. When you’re l’arnin’ ’em I’ll allers be ’round; an’ if they don’t behave themselves proper, I’ll make ’em.”
“Besides,” chimed in Mr. Hayes, “you’re just the chap I want to do my writin’ an’ figurin’. Whenever I pay out any money, or take any in, I allers set it down in a book, so that at the eend of the year, I know jest how much I have made. I’ll have to get you to show me how to do it proper. I never did have much edication, but I’m bound that my boys shall all be smart men. They’re all got good names, an’ if they only do as well as them they are named after, I shall be satisfied.”
Tom listened to this unfolding of the farmer’s plans in utter bewilderment. His desire to create a sensation in Mr. Hayes’s family had been fully gratified; but he did not enjoy it as he had expected he would, for it was more than overbalanced by two most disagreeable features in his new home, which made him very uneasy. He did not like the boys, for they were very different from those with whom he had been in the habit of associating; and he was dismayed to learn that he was expected to act as school-master. The longer he listened, the more he became aware of the unpleasant fact, that Mr. Hayes’ object in bringing him into the country, was not so much to teach him the science of farming, as to secure a book-keeper for himself, and an instructor for his boys.
The farmer and his wife, like most country people, thought that a boy who had always lived in a village, where he had access to the best schools, ought to be well posted in all the different branches; but Tom himself knew that they were sadly mistaken in him. However, he determined not to confess his inability to perform all that was required of him; but when the time for action came, he would trust to his wits to help him out.
“Franklin Pierce,” said the farmer, at length, “did you an’ the boys get all that hay raked up this morning, like I told you?”
“Yes, dad, we did,” answered the boy, seizing the opportunity, when his mother did not happen to be looking toward him, to shake his head at Tom.
“Wal, then, Sally Ann,” continued Mr. Hayes, “if you’ll give us some dinner, we’ll go to work.”
“Franklin Pierce!” shouted the mother, (she seemed to have been so long in the habit of screaming at the top of her lungs, that it had become a kind of second nature to her,) “come here an’ ’tend to Thomas Jefferson, while I get dinner.”
While the meal was being prepared, Tom accompanied the farmer to the barn, and then to the hay-field, followed by all the boys, who did not seem to want to lose sight of the new-comer. They appeared to be intensely interested in him; and Tom carried himself very stiffly, certain that he had made a profound impression upon his new acquaintances. But he soon found that he was mistaken in this, for Franklin Pierce, who had followed them to the field, dragging his little brother after him, found opportunity to whisper in his ear: