“It’s going to be a beautiful house,” said Mrs. Pratt. “And to think of what the place looked like yesterday! Well, Jud Harkness, I haven’t any words to tell you what I really think, and that’s all there is to it!”
For an hour or more Margery and her helpers had been busy at the big fire. At Eleanor’s suggestion two of the men had stopped work on the house long enough to put up a rough, long table with benches at the sides, and now the table was groaning with the fine dinner that Margery had prepared.
“Good solid food—no fancy fixings!” Eleanor had decreed. “These men burn up a tremendous lot of energy in work, and we’ve got to give them good food to replace it. So we don’t want a lot of trumpery things, such as we like!”
She had enforced a literal obedience, too. There were great joints of corned beef, red and savory; pots of cabbage, and huge mounds of boiled potatoes. Pots of mustard were scattered along the table, and each man had a pitcher of fine, fresh milk, and a loaf of bread, with plenty of butter. And for dessert there was a luxury—the only fancy part of the meal.
Eleanor had had a whispered conference with Tom Pratt early in the day, as the result of which he had hitched up and driven into Cranford, to return with two huge tubs of ice-cream. He had brought a couple of boxes of cigars, too, and when the meal was over, and the men were getting out their pipes, Eleanor had gone around among them.
“Try one of these!” she had urged. “I know they’re good—and I know that when men are working hard they enjoy a first-class smoke.”
The cigars made a great hit.
“By Golly! There’s nothing she don’t think of, that Miss Mercer!” said Jud Harkness appreciatively, as he lit up, and sent great clouds of blue smoke in the air. “Boys, if we don’t do a tiptop job on that house to finish it off this afternoon we ought to be hung for a lot of ungrateful skunks. Eh?”
There was a deep-throated shout of approval for that sentiment, and, after a few minutes of rest, during which the cigars were enjoyed to the utmost, Jud rose and once more sounded the call to work.
“I’ve heard men in the city say that after a heavy meal in the middle of the day, they couldn’t work properly in the afternoon,” said Eleanor, as she watched the men go about their work, each seeming to know his part exactly. “It doesn’t seem to be so with these men, though, does it? I guess that in the city men who work in offices don’t use their bodies enough—they don’t get enough exercise, and they eat as much as if they did.”