"Uncle Bert!" cried Roger.
"Now, young man," interposed Mr. Kimball, good-naturedly, "young folks should be seen 'n' not heard, ye know. 'S I were sayin'," turning to Mr. Anderson, "Roger's got t' hev some sheers in my salt spring. Now I hed thought a' puttin' a certain sum t' his credit in th' bank."
Mr. Anderson made a gesture of dissent.
"Jest wait 'til I git through," said Mr. Kimball. "I ain't give up th' notion yet, but what I want t' say is, I think Roger ought t' use part of it t' go t' college 'ith. That's what I've planned t' do fer Adrian, here, 'cause there ain't nothin' like eddercation fer a boy, er a man either fer thet matter. I didn't hev no chanst when I were young. Hed t' git out 'n' hustle on th' farm when I were ten year old, so I know th' value a' larnin'. 'N' t' college my boy goes, now I'm well enough off t' send him," and Mr. Kimball clapped his hand down on his leg with a report like a small gun.
"I'm sure I don't know how to thank you," began Mr. Anderson. "I—"
"Then jest don't try," broke in Mr. Kimball, very practically. "We'll consider it all settled."
The women folks started to go in the house, while Mr. Kimball and Mr. Anderson walked a little way toward the road. Presently they heard a great shouting.
"What's that?" asked Mr. Anderson.
"Reckon it's th' boys, skylarkin'," replied Mr. Kimball. "They're allers up t' suthin' er other."
The men walked over toward the sounds, which were evidently of mirth. There, under the two big cherry trees that stood at the gate, rolling in the sweet grass, were the two cousins; and Roger was sitting astride of Adrian, shouting at the top of his voice: