“Now you are in for it again, Tom,” whispered Sam.

“I didn’t mean to hit you, Uncle Randolph.  Why didn’t you catch it on the fly?”

“On the fly?” repeated the uncle.  “Do you suppose I am accustomed to catching cannon balls?”

“Didn’t you ever play baseball?”

“Never.  I spent my time in some useful study.”  The elderly gentleman continued to keep his handkerchief to his nose, and adjusted his glasses.

“Thank fortune, you are all going to go to boarding school next week, and we will once more have a little peace and quietness around Valley Brook!”

“Where are we to go, Uncle Randolph?” asked Sam.

“You I will learn that Monday morning, when you start off.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to tell us now,” grumbled Tom.

“You must learn to be patient, Thomas.  My one hope is that life at boarding school makes a real man of you.”

“Of course we are all to go together?”

“Yes, you are to go together, although I can get along with Richard very well, he is so much more quiet and studious than you or Samuel.”

“I reckon he takes after you, Uncle Randolph.”

“If so, he might do worse.  By the way, what were both of you doing here?”

“Nothing,” came from Sam.

“We haven’t anything to do.  This farm is the slowest place on earth,” added Tom.

“Why do you not study the scientific and agricultural works that I mentioned to you?  See what I have done for scientific farming.”

“I don’t want to be a farmer,” said Tom.  “I’d rather be a sailor.”

“A sailor!” gasped Randolph Rover. “0f all things!  Why, a sailor is the merest nobody on earth!”

“I guess you mean on the sea, uncle,” said Sam with a grin.

“Don’t joke me, Samuel.  Yes, Thomas —­ the calling of a sailor amounts to absolutely nothing.  Scientific farming is the thing!  Nothing more noble on the face of the earth than to till the soil.”

“I never saw you behind a plow, Uncle Randolph,” answered Tom, with a twinkle in his blue eyes.  “Besides, I heard you say that the farm ran behind last year.”

“Tut, tut, boy!  You know nothing about it.  I made a slight miscalculation in crops, that was all.  But this year we shall do better.”

“You lost money year before last, too,” commented Sam.

“Who told you that?”

“Mr. Woddie, the storekeeper at the Corners.”

“Mr. Woddie may understand storekeeping, but he knows nothing of farming, scientific or otherwise.  I spent several thousands of dollars in experimenting, but the money was not lost.  We shall soon have grand results.  I shall astonish the whole of New, York, State at the next meeting of our agricultural society,” and Mr. Randolph Rover waved his hand grandiloquently.  It was easy to see that scientific farming was his hobby.

“Randolph!” It was the voice of Mrs. Rover, who now appeared beside her husband.  “What is the matter with your nose?”