When supper was ended, Jonathan asked, “May I try to fix your pump, m’am?”
Mother hesitated, glanced at Bill, and then replied with a smile, “Yes, you may try. At any rate you can’t make it any worse than it has been, since Bill fussed with it.”
Jonathan went to work with his jackknife and such tools as were at hand. He had not more than started, however, when Bill came in with an armful of wood for the kitchen stove. Stopping at the pump he said in his dictatorial tones, “You can’t do nothin’ with that pump! I’ve tried it, an’ I tell you it’s past mending by any botch or boy. An’ I tell Miss Stark it will be cheaper to buy a new one, by gosh! For I put in a half a day tryin’ to fix it.”
Jonathan, without reply, kept on with his mending and, to our surprise, after half an hour had the pump working.
“Where did you learn to fix pumps?” mother inquired in a pleased manner.
“Our pump got out of order once, and the man who fixed it explained its working to me, and I have learned about them otherwise since.”
“That pump,” said the disgruntled Bill, “will be out of order again as quick as scat, or I miss my guess.”
“You see,” said Jot, ignoring Bill, “that piece of leather is a valve and must fit quite tight. When the air is pumped out, the water comes up to fill the partial vacuum. All I have done is to limber and adjust the valve so that it fits tighter.”
“My!” said mother trying the pump, “it works quite well, and it does not matter where you learned it; you have earned your supper and breakfast too, for we would have had to send to Chester for a man to repair it, besides the inconvenience of waiting.”
The next morning mother asked Jot what pay he would want to do the chores and other light work about the place. “I will work a month,” he replied, “and you shall say how much I am worth.”