“What will the paper on your bedroom wall be like?” I asked.

“I know perfectly well, but I shan’t tell you.”

Seating myself on an out-cropping boulder, I began to study the geography of the farm.  In imagination I stripped it of stock, crops, buildings, and fences, and saw it as bald as the palm of my hand.  I recited the table of long measure:  Sixteen and a half feet, one rod, perch, or pole; forty rods, one furlong; eight furlongs, one mile.  Eight times 40 is 320; there are 320 rods in a mile, but how much is 16-1/2. times 320?  “Polly, how much is 16-1/2 times 320?”

“Don’t bother me now; I’m busy.”

(Just as if she could have told in her moment of greatest leisure!) I resorted to paper and pencil, and learned that there are 5280 feet in each and every mile.  My land was, therefore, 5280 feet long and 2640 feet wide.  I must split it in some way, by a road or a lane, to make all parts accessible.  If I divided it by two lanes of twenty feet each, I could have on either side of these lanes lots 650 feet deep, and these would be quite manageable.  I found that if these lots were 660 feet long, they would contain ten acres minus the ten feet used for the lane.  This seemed a real discovery, as it simplified my calculations and relieved me of much mental effort.

“Polly, I am going to make a map of the place,—­lay it out just as I want it.”

“You may leave the home forty out of your map; I will look after that,” said the lady.

In my pocket I found three envelopes somewhat the worse for wear.  This is how one of them looked when my map was finished.

[Illustration:]

I am not especially haughty about this map, but it settled a matter which had been chaotic in my mind.  My plan was to make the farm a soiling one; to confine the stock within as limited a space as was consistent with good health, and to feed cultivated forage and crops.  In drawing my map, the forty which Polly had segregated left the northeast forty standing alone, and I had to cast about for some good way of treating it.  “Make it your feeding ground,” said my good genius, and thus the wrath of Polly was made to glorify my plans.

This feeding lot of forty acres is all high land, naturally drained.  It was near the obvious building line, and it seemed suitable in every way.  I drew a line from north to south, cutting it in the middle.  The east twenty I devoted to cows and their belongings; the west twenty was divided by right lines into lots of five acres each, the southwest one for the hens and the other three for hogs.

Looking around for Polly to show her my work, I found she had disappeared; but soon I saw her white gown among the trees.  Joining her, I said,—­

“I have mapped seven forties; have you finished one?”

“I have not,” she said.  “Mine is of more importance than all of yours; I will give you a sketch this evening.  This bit of woods is better than I thought.  How much of it do you suppose there is?”