“Give me the job then,” he said, eagerly, “and give me what you think I’m wuth;” and he jogged off home with that leaven of all good in his heart—­the hope of better things.

Chapter XXXV

“We shall all earn our salt”

Raspberries and milk, with bread and butter and a cup of tea, made a supper that we all relished, and then Merton and I started for the boat-landing.  I let the boy drive and deliver the crates to the freight agent, for I wished him to relieve me of this task occasionally.  On our way to the landing I saw Rollins, who readily agreed to Bagley’s wish, on condition that I guaranteed payment for the chickens.  Stopping at the man’s cottage further on, I told him this, and he, in his emphatic way, declared:  “I vow ter you, Mr. Durham, ye shan’t lose a feather’s worth o’ the chickens.”

Returning home, poor Merton was so tired and drowsy that he nearly fell off the seat.  Before long I took the reins from his hands, and he was asleep with his head on my shoulder.  Winifred was dozing in her chair, but brightened up as we came in.  A little judicious praise and a bowl of bread and milk strengthened the boy wonderfully.  He saw the need of especial effort at this time, and also saw that he was not being driven unfeelingly.

As I sat alone with my wife, resting a few minutes before retiring, I said:  “Well, Winifred, it must be plain to you by this time that the summer campaign will be a hard one.  How are we going to stand it?”

“I’ll tell you next fall,” she replied, with a laugh.  “No problems to-night, thank you.”

“I’m gathering a queer lot of helpers in my effort to live in the country,” I continued.  “There’s old Mr. Jacox, who is too aged to hold his own in other harvest-fields.  Bagley and his tribe—­”

“And a city wife and a lot of city children,” she added.

“And a city greenhorn of a man at the head of you all,” I concluded.

“Well,” she replied, rising with an odd little blending of laugh and yawn, “I’m not afraid but that we shall all earn our salt.”

Thus came to an end the long, eventful day, which prepared the way for many others of similar character, and suggested many of the conditions of our problem of country living.

Bagley appeared bright and early the following morning with his two elder children, and I was now confronted with the task of managing them and making them useful.  Upon one thing I was certainly resolved—­there should be no quixotic sentiment in our relations, and no companionship between his children and mine.

Therefore, I took him and his girl and boy aside, and said:  “I’m going to be simple and outspoken with you.  Some of my neighbors think I’m a fool because I give you work when I can get others.  I shall prove that I am not a fool, for the reason that I shall not permit any nonsense, and you can show that I am not a fool by doing your work well and quietly.  Bagley, I want you to understand that your children do not come here to play with mine.  No matter whom I employed, I should keep my children by themselves.  Now, do you understand this?”