"Mebbe your father will git around to fixin' the pump staff, and he kin make that in ten minutes. I believe he's got a stick for't out in the workshop now, he won't be driv'."
"Janice wasted her good money, then," said Marty, with fine disgust. "All else it needs is a pump staff, and he kin make that in ten minutes. I believe he's got a stick for't out in the workshop—had it there for months."
"Now, you git erlong with that pail, Marty," commanded his mother, "and don't stand there a-criticisin' of your elders."
Janice hid behind the great lilac bush until Marty had gone grumblingly down the hill. Then she heard some loud language from the barnyard and knew that her uncle had come in from the fields. After a little hesitation she made straight for the barn.
"Uncle Jason! won't you please mend the pump? Mr. Pringle has cut you a good pump leather."
"Goodness me, Janice! I'm druv to death. All this young corn to cultivate, an' not a soul to help me. Other boys like Marty air some good; but I can't trust him in the field with a hoss."
"But you don't work in the field all day long, Uncle," pleaded Janice.
"Seems to me I don't have a minute to call my own," declared the farmer. To hear him talk one would think he was the busiest man in Poketown!
"I expect you are pretty busy," agreed the girl, nodding; "but I can tell you how to find time to mend that pump."
"How's that?" he asked, curiously.