“I suppose so; still, I’d like to have seen Momsy again,” returned Ted, his voice quavering.
In reply, Phil struck his brother a resounding clap on the back.
“Buck up, son, buck up!” he exclaimed, his own voice none too steady. “Just remember that we are going to make a home for her where she can grow strong and happy, and forget about the leave-taking.”
For a moment it seemed, to those seated near by, uncertain whether or not the boy could master his emotion. But, squaring his shoulders, he asserted his will power, and in the most matter of fact tone he could muster said:
“I wonder whether it would be better to seed down to durum wheat this season or put everything we clear into alfalfa?”
The other passengers in the car had noted the demonstration at the Weston station, and from various remarks, capped by Phil’s admonition, had guessed correctly that the two boys were leaving home to begin their battle with the world. Many an eye among them grew moist as their minds harked back to the days when they too had stepped from the protection of home into the struggle of real life, and keen therefore was their interest in Ted’s ability to meet the crisis.
Accordingly, as they heard his statement in regard to the wheat, there was a murmur of hearty approval which caused the younger boy to gaze about him in surprise, but, though his brother had heard it also, he wished to keep Ted to the mark and asked:
“What in the world is ‘durum’ wheat?”
“There, I knew you didn’t read that last pamphlet we received from the Department of Agriculture,” gloated his brother. “If you had, you would not have been obliged to ask. Durum wheat is a particularly hardy and quick-growing kind which may be planted in the spring and reaped in the summer.”
“Well, it will be long past spring by the time we get our land cleared and in condition to plant,” smiled Phil, “so I guess we’ll sow to alfalfa.”