In the afternoon they picked more grapes, and neither of them suggested stopping to rest or play. The fascination of business was on them, and they seemed to have taken the responsibility of wanting to do all they could.
"Might as well get a lot picked," suggested Adrian, as he and Roger snipped away at the big bunches, "then dad can hurry to the city with them while the price is high;" and they gathered the fruit as long as they could see.
When Mr. Kimball returned home from the city that night he seemed to feel a little easier than when he left. He told his wife, and the boys overheard him, that he had succeeded in getting a delay of the mortgage foreclosure until May first, and that would give him several months to try to get the money together. True, it seemed but a respite, for there was not much chance of his securing the cash, he said, since later news of the failure of the railroad shares only confirmed the first report, that they were gone beyond hope of ever getting anything from them. But for all that, Mr. Kimball was hopeful. There was not much chance of using the money he would get from the present crops, as that would be needed for ordinary household expenses. Nevertheless the farmer found a chance to laugh a little, and he was greatly pleased and touched when he learned what the boys had done.
"We must hurry 'n' git th' rest a' th' grapes picked to-morrow," he said. "Cold spell's a-comin', 'n' a frost'll nip 'em so they won't sell. My! But I'm hungry, though, mother. Hungry's a b'ar. So we'll hev supper, 'n' talk arterwards."
The meal progressed more pleasantly than the one of the night before, and when it was over and the dishes and chores were done, they all took their chairs in the "settin' room," as Mrs. Kimball called it. There Clara played the organ, and the boys sang songs and hymns until it was time to go to bed. Roger was tired with the day's experience, and he was anxious, too, about his uncle. But this did not prevent him from sleeping, and he dropped off, feeling that busy and exciting as his life in the country had been, it had already done him good. But there were more lively times ahead of him.
CHAPTER XII
JACK FROST
Roger had been at his uncle's a week when he received a second letter from home. It told him all the folks were well and were hoping he was improving in health. He answered it as soon as he had read it, for beyond the short note he had sent off telling of his safe arrival, he had not yet written much to his mother. So in this second letter he related all of his experiences since coming to Cardiff, from the wrestling match to the adventure with the wild-cat and his partnership with his cousin in the old bone and copper business.