"Uncle Joe," he called, as his uncle reached the gate. "Mr. White told me to tell you that the matter you were discussing with him was all right and that he would be glad to see you any time."
"Oh, he did," said his uncle, turning and coming back to the wagon, where Bob was unhitching the team.
"Yes, he did," said Bob, "said he'd accommodate you any time you were in town."
"Well, I'm glad you drove a good bargain for the sale of the turtles, Bob," remarked his uncle, the look of disappointment gone. "I said they were yours and I want you to know that I still feel the same way about it."
"Thank you, Uncle Joe," replied Bob, as he started for the barn with the team.
VI
SELLING SAND
"Bob," said his uncle after dinner, as they were bringing the horses from the barn, "the old pond looks as though it might take all summer to dry out. Then, too, the brook winds through the center of it in such a way as to really spoil the field for farming."
"Why couldn't we straighten the brook, Uncle Joe," asked Bob, after a moment's thought, "or move it over to the south side against the bank there. That would make it almost a straight line between the lane bridge and the old forebay."
"But that would make a lot of work, Bob," replied his uncle, "and we have more now than we have time for. It would be a good idea though to have the brook on the outside of the field; but what bothers me most is how we're going to keep the field from being flooded every time it rains."