“How can any man be so mean and stingy!” said Migwan, indignantly.
“And what do you intend to do now?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.
“I don’t know,” said Calvin, looking utterly downcast and discouraged. “I had expected to go through school and then to agricultural college and be a scientific farmer, but that’s out of the question now. I haven’t a cent in the world. I could hire out to some of the farmers around here, I suppose, but you know what that means—they wouldn’t pay me much because I’m a boy, but they would get a man’s work out of me and it’s precious little time I’d have for school. I’ve always saved Uncle Abner the cost of one hired man in return for what he gave me, so I don’t feel under any obligations to him. I think I’ll give up farming for a while and go to the city and work. The trouble is I have no friends there and it might be hard for me to get into a good place.” His honest eyes were clouded over with perplexity and trouble.
“My father could probably get you a job in the city,” said Gladys, “if you can wait until he gets back. He’s out west now.”
“I tell you what to do,” said kind-hearted Mrs. Gardiner to Calvin, “you stay here with us until Mr. Evans comes back. You can help the girls in the garden, and we were wishing not long ago that we had another man in the house.”
“You are very kind,” said Calvin, gratefully, “but I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Mrs. Gardiner assured him, “you can sleep with Tom.” The girls all expressed pleasure at the prospect of having Calvin stay at Onoway House and under the spell of their kindly hospitality his drooping spirits revived. He shook the dust of his uncle’s house from his feet, feeling no longer an outcast, since he had suddenly found such kind friends on the other side of the hedge.
Calvin lived in a perpetual state of wonder at the girls at Onoway House. They made a frolic out of everything they did and were continually thinking up new and amazing games to play. Calvin had never done anything at home all his life but work, and work was a serious business to him. He never knew before that work was fun. The long, weary hours of peeling were enlivened with songs made up on the spur of the moment. Sahwah would look up from the pan over which she was bending, and sing to the tune of “The Pope”:
“Our Migwan leads a jolly life, jolly life,
She peels tomatoes with her knife, with her knife,
And puts the pieces in the can,
And leaves the peelings in the pan, (Oh, tra la la).”
And then they would all start to sing at once,