Mr. Gerald Sheridan was a merchant who did business in New York, but he was now taking a few days’ vacation, to look a little after the work upon his farm, which was in charge of a hired man.  His house, situated a short distance down the road, was large and spacious.  The boys walked briskly toward it, planning as they went.

At Uncle Gerald’s the latch string was always out—­that is, if the door was not standing hospitably open, as was usually the case in pleasant spring or summer weather; one had only to turn the knob and walk in.  Just as they were about to enter the square, home-like hall, lined with old-fashioned settles and adorned with fowling-pieces, fishing-rods, tennis rackets, and the like, Jack’s cousin, eleven-year-old Leo, came out of an adjoining room and said;

“Hello!  You want to see father?  Well, he’s over yonder”—­pointing to a sunny patch of ground toward the south,—­“showing Michael how he wants the vegetable garden planted.  Wait a minute and I’ll go with you.”

Leo’s hat having been discovered in a corner where he had tossed it an hour or two earlier, they started on a race to the garden, and brought up suddenly in front of Uncle Gerald, who now, in a dark blue flannel shirt, trousers to match, and a broad-brimmed hat of grey felt, was evidently dressed for the role of a farmer.  He was a pleasant man, tall and slight in figure, with blue eyes, a brown beard, and a cheery, kindly manner, which made him a favorite with everybody, and especially with boys, in whose projects he was always interested.

“Give you the wood to build a boat?” he repeated, when told what Jack and Rob wanted to accomplish.  “Willingly.  I am glad to have you attempt something of the kind.  I have always maintained that boys should be taught to work with their hands.  Every youth ought to learn the use of tools, just as a girl learns to sew, to cook, and help her mother in household duties.  Then we should not have so many awkward, stupid, bungling fellows, who can not do anything for themselves.  It is as disgraceful for a lad not to be able to drive a nail straight without pounding his fingers or thumb as it is for a girl not to know how to stitch on a button.  But I am letting my hobby run away with me, and no doubt you are anxious to be off.  You will find the lumber piled in the storeroom of the barn.  Take what you need.  Perhaps Leo will lend you his pony to draw the load home.”

“Thank you, sir!” answered Jack, heartily.

Now that the means of carrying out his plan were insured to him, he did not feel in such a hurry; and, furthermore, though quite satisfied that he should have no trouble about it, he would not have objected to a few hints as to how to begin.

“Can you tell me, Uncle,” asked the boy, half jocosely, “if any of the distinguished men you are thinking of ever attempted to make a boat?”

“To be sure,” returned the gentleman.  “There was Peter the Great, who, though a tyrannical ruler, might have earned fair wages as a ship-builder.  But we shall have to talk about him another time, when I have leisure; for I see that at present Michael wants me to devote all my attention to tomato plants, peas, beans, and seed potatoes.  If you wait till tomorrow, I will show you how to set to work.”