"I'll have Edith write to a grower to-night, if you wish, Joe, and find what the peaches will cost," said his wife.

"How about the black walnuts?" asked Bob. "Shall we plant the trees or nuts?"

"I think we had better plant nuts and let them grow themselves. We can stick a lot of them between the peach trees and, of course, the peach trees will be dead long before the walnuts get to be any size."

Much to the regret of every one, two days later Ruth and Edith said good-by to Brookside Farm and went back to their New England homes. They had intended to stay a few weeks longer, but a telegram from Edith's father saying her mother had been taken suddenly ill and needed her, caused them to decide that they should return at once. When Bob came back from an inspection trip with John White and the County Commissioners over the new concrete road, they had packed their trunks and were ready to leave for the afternoon train. He drove the girls and their Aunt Bettie to town in the car and was particularly depressed when he said good-by at the station—somehow or other they had become part of the life at Brookside Farm, and now that they were going he began to realize how much he would miss them. Even the good- natured Ruth, in her impetuous way and ability to get into trouble, had added much to the life on the farm. Edith was very quiet all the way to the station, and Bob could not tell whether it was worrying over the possible illness of her mother or her disappointment in having to return so soon, or maybe, as he hoped, it was for another reason she was silent—at any rate, she had little to say to him as he bid her good-by, but just before she ascended the steps of the train, when, for a second, they looked full into each others' eyes, he seemed to feel that perhaps he was right in attributing it to that reason.

So the girls went on their way and Bob went back to work.



XXIII

CHRISTMAS AT BROOKSIDE FARM

One evening a few days before Thanksgiving, shortly after they had moved into the new house, Bob sat before the open fire talking with his aunt and uncle, when the latter said:

"Bob, it's just a little over nine months since you came to live with us and turned our farm upside down, digging after 'Hidden Treasure.' Do you remember the Sunday we let the water out of the old pond?"

"Yes, I do, Uncle Joe."

"Do you remember the conversation you and I had that day?"

"I haven't forgotten that either, Uncle Joe," said Bob with a smile.

"Well, it's getting around kind of close to payday, don't you think, Bob?"

"Oh, I don't need any money, Uncle Joe. I received $250 for my honey this fall, and I haven't spent very much yet."

"That's no reason why you should not be paid just the same. You've done your work. I don't know what you feel you've earned, but what would you say if I gave you $540—that's at the rate of $60 per month with board."

"Do you mean to pay me in money, Uncle Joe?"

"Of course, in money. I don't suppose you want to take it out in sand and gravel, do you?"

"No, Uncle Joe, of course not; but do you think I've earned that much money, Uncle Joe?"

"Yes, and more, but that's as much as I feel I can pay you, and if you stay with us another year, and we prosper as well as we did this year, what do you say to calling it $75 per month with board?"

"That'll be splendid, Uncle Joe, and I'll be perfectly satisfied."

"All right," said his uncle, "then it's a bargain, and here's your check for the money," and he handed him a check already made out and drawn to his order for $540.

"Thank you, Uncle Joe," said Bob, looking first at the check and then at his aunt and uncle in turn. "I hope you both feel I've earned it all."

"Oh, yes, you've earned it all right, Bob; don't worry about that," said his uncle.

"If I were you," said his aunt, "I'd stop in at Bush & Company, tailors, and have a couple of nice suits of clothes made—a specially good one for Sunday and another one for general dress-up wear. You should have a new overcoat, too, and some other nice things. You're nineteen years old now, Bob, and you've been working pretty hard this summer, and not paying much attention to your clothes. We'll like you just as well in your old clothes as we will in the new ones, but while you're a farmer, that's no reason why you should not have some good clothes, the same as other boys. You know, Brookside Farm has established a reputation, and while I don't believe in wasting money on clothes, I think we should all be dressed comfortably and be neat."

"All right, Aunt Bettie, I'll be going to town to-morrow and I'll take care of it."

Time flew quickly at Brookside Farm, while they hurried to finish their concrete buildings and get their new fences up before the ground froze up solidly.

After this was done, Joe Williams fixed up a lot of wire racks to take care of his seed corn, and carefully winnowed out his prize oats for good fertile seed. The chickens, too, claimed considerable of their combined attention.

Now that Edith had gone they both began to realize how much help she had been in her quiet way and the many things she had done while there. Bob kept hoping she might be able to return the coming year, although the letters she wrote gave him no encouragement to hope.

"Merry Christmas, Bob," called his aunt, as he came in from doing his chores on Christmas morning, and she handed him a handsome gold watch and chain.

"Merry Christmas, Aunt Bettie," he replied. "Who is this from?"

"That's from your Uncle Joe and me," said his aunt, "and a Merry Christmas I think it should be, for I heard your uncle say yesterday that you finished the last foot of wire fence and that all the concrete work was done, except some garden furniture.

"It has certainly been a busy year for you, Bob," continued his aunt; "when I think of all that has been accomplished, it seems almost inconceivable how we changed the old place in such a short time, and how much more comfortable we are now than when I first came to the farm in April. Do you know, Bob, one of the nicest buildings we have on the farm is Tony's little cottage down by the pond. I am never tired of looking at it."

"It is a handsome building, Aunt Bettie, down there under those big elm trees," said Bob, "and with the pond back of it, it has a very homelike appearance."

"What are you planning to do this winter, Bob, now that the concrete work is practically all done?" she asked.

"Well, I was thinking, Aunt Bettie, now that Brookside has shown its earning capacity, that we might get the pipe ready for the overhead irrigation system in the field over by the main road, and build a pump house down near the pond. The more I read and think of intensive cultivating, the more I believe there's a lot of money can be made by this method. Of course, if we don't want to raise potatoes, we could easily raise celery or other vegetables, and you know we can get four crops a year off the ground instead of one, if we plant it right, and fertilize it heavy enough."

"We'll do no work to-day, Bob, for this is a holiday, so we'll just have a good time. Did you get your new clothes from the tailor?"

"Yes, I got them last night. Maybe I'll dress up to-day just to see how they look," he added, smiling back at her.

"Why are we having such a large table for Christmas dinner, Aunt Bettie?" he asked a little later in the morning, as he passed through the dining room and saw the table extended to an unusual size.

"I didn't know but some one might drop in for dinner on Christmas," said his aunt evasively.

"Why, is there some one coming, Aunt Bettie?" he asked.

"You just wait and see," spoke up his uncle, who came into the room.

"All right," said Bob; "I guess I'll have to wait."

"That reminds me," said his uncle, winking at his wife. "I forgot something in town that I was to bring out. John White asked me to stop around at the bank, so I'll have to go back—guess I'll have time to get in and back again before dinner."

"We won't have dinner to-day until 12:30, Joe," said his wife, "so if you start now you ought to be back easily by that time," she added smiling.

When the new house at Brookside was planned, a small room had been built on the first floor to—be used as a sort of an office. In this room a flat-top desk with drawers had been placed and a bookcase to contain all their bulletins and other information had been built at one end in a convenient place. The set of books containing the cost accounting system of the farm was kept in this desk. In this room Bob also kept a small draughting board and his instruments. At odd times he sketched new buildings and other things for the improvement of the farm. He now went to this room and began work again on the designs of some garden furniture, which they were planning to place on the sloping ground in front of the house the following spring. He was busy at work when his attention was attracted by the sound of an automobile coming up the driveway. He looked out of the window as the car flashed past; he recognized some of the faces, and rushed out to the porch to great them.

There was something very unfamiliar about the car as it came up the driveway. As it drew near he saw the reason, for instead of the Ford his uncle had taken to town, he was now sitting in a new seven- passenger Buick. In the front seat, with his uncle, sat Bob's father, and in the back seat was his mother, with his grandmother and grandfather on either side of her.

Bob had rushed out bare headed to greet them. He kissed his mother and grandmother and shook hands with the others.

"Well, what do you think of your Aunt Bettie's Christmas gift, Bob?" asked his uncle, as they got back on the porch and turned around to look at the new car.

"What do you mean, Aunt Bettie's Christmas gift?" he asked.

"The new car," said his uncle.

"Is that her car, Uncle Joe?"

"Yes, I just bought it for her—that's her Christmas gift. Isn't it a dandy?"

"Whee! It surely is," said Bob. "Does she know yet that you bought it?"

"No, that's a surprise that's coming to her," and they both ran into the dining room where she was busy with the dinner, to escort her out to inspect the car.

Bob had never seen his aunt so happy as when she inspected the car and his uncle insisted upon her getting into the seat, as he explained to her the operation of the levers. Her eyes were bright with joy when she got out of the car a moment later and went back to her dinner and her guests.

"It was very kind of you, Joe, to remember me in this way," and her eyes were suspiciously wet. "I feel more than repaid for all the work I have done to help you build up Brookside Farm."

Christmas Day at Brookside was an event long to be remembered, for not only had Bob the pleasure of explaining to his mother and father the work they had been doing all summer and telling them of their plans for the coming year, but during the afternoon a large auto truck arrived at the house and unloaded a fine piano and victrola, the latter with a dozen well-selected records.

His aunt couldn't believe her eyes when this second Christmas present arrived. The only satisfaction she could get from her husband was that he and John White had talked it over and decided that they needed some music at Brookside to brighten their evenings. After supper that night, his Aunt Bettie sat down at the piano and began to play.

It was only a few minutes before they were all gathered around the piano singing. Naturally, the first song was Edith's "Happy Farmer"; they were just in the midst of the song when the door opened and in walked Tony and Maria. After a few minutes' interruption, they started singing again—Tony and his wife joining in with the others.

Once the singing started there was no stopping them and for several hours they sang song after song. It was really the first time since Brookside Farm had become a reality, that they had a chance to let each other know just how happy they felt, as they gave vent to their feelings in song.

"I'm only sorry," said Bob's aunt, "that my own father and mother couldn't have lived to see the happiness and joy that has come to us. This has been the happiest Christmas Day I have ever spent."

"Bob!" called his uncle. "Come here a minute. I almost forgot to give you something. Here's a letter that John White asked me to deliver to you."

Bob took the letter, read it and then re-read it, his face a puzzle.

What is it? "asked his uncle smiling.

"I don't know," said Bob; "it's a peculiar kind of a letter, and I don't understand it at all."

"Let me see it," asked his father, and Bob handed him the letter.

After looking at it a moment, he read aloud:

"This is to certify that we have this day bought the sixty acres of land adjoining Brookside Farm, on the east, for the sum of Eighteen Hundred Dollars ($1800), to be held in trust for Robert Williams, and to be turned over to him whenever he wishes to take possession. The sum of $1800, the purchase price, to be paid to the First National Bank at his convenience and draw six per cent. interest until paid. The first payment of One Hundred Dollars ($100) on account, is hereby acknowledged. (Signed), The First National Bank, John White, President."

"What does it mean, Uncle Joe?" asked Bob, looking at his uncle, who was smiling across at him.

"Well, it simply means this, Bob: John White wanted to make sure when you got ready to buy a farm that there'd be one waiting for you. He persuaded Bruce Wallace to sell him his sixty acres adjoining Brookside on the east. He said he wanted you to have the land next to Brookside. That was the only piece that had the proper exposure and good water; besides this, he pointed out that the water from our pond runs through this also, and that there is a place there where you can have a pond of your own, if you want it."

"What about the $100 on account, Uncle Joe?" asked Bob.

"Oh," laughed his uncle, "that's your Christmas gift from John White."

Bob was silent while he tried to realize the full purport of the letter. Then he suddenly said:

"I've no money to buy a farm, Uncle Joe."

"He doesn't say that you have to take it up right away, or that you have to pay for it by any particular time. You see, Bob, since the new concrete road has been built, farms are soon going to advance in price and he wanted you to have the advantage of buying yours at the original price. He feels you are largely responsible for the improvements that have been made in this section and that you should benefit by them."

"I guess we'll have to sing Edith's 'Happy Farmer' song again," said Bob's aunt, as she seated herself at the piano and struck up the familiar air, in which they all joined with a will.



XXIV

COST ACCOUNTING

Shortly after Christmas, Tony came to Joe Williams and explained that his brother, who was then visiting them, would like to stay at Brookside and work. As Tony had given eminent satisfaction, and his brother seemed to be a capable young man, he was engaged to look after the dairy.

In February Bob had taken two weeks off. He had gone to visit his father and mother. When he returned he found that many important events had occurred at Brookside Farm.

"Who do you think is here?" asked his uncle, as Bob came into the sitting room.

"I don't know," said Bob; "unless it's Edith back again."

"I believe you're pretty fond of Edith," said his uncle, eyeing him: suspiciously; "seems to me you two were together a good deal last summer, come to think of it."

"Well, isn't she a nice girl, Uncle Joe?" "She certainly is a fine girl, Bob, and I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it isn't Edith this time—it's Joseph Williams, Jr.," said his uncle proudly, "three days old to-day."

"You don't mean it, Uncle Joe," exclaimed Bob.

"Yes, sir, Bob; twelve pounds on the scale, and every inch a farmer. We've produced some prize winners at Brookside Farm, Bob, but this one heads the list."

"That's splendid, Uncle Joe. May I see him?"

"As soon as we get warm, Bob. I wouldn't go into the room until you've had a chance to warm up some."

A few minutes later Bob was conducted to his aunt's room and there was not only allowed to see, but to hold in his arms, the heir of Brookside Farm.

"My, but he's little," said Bob.

"Little!" exclaimed his uncle. "Why, he's a bouncing big boy."

"Well, maybe it's the clothes that make him look so small."

"Don't tell us that," said his uncle, "for we know better."

"That's what you told me when I first came to the farm," laughed Bob.

"That's right. I remember now you did look small, Bob, but you've grown a lot since then."

"Guess he'll grow too, Uncle Joe. Everything seems to grow fast on Brookside."

Then the baby asserted himself.

"My, what a good pair of lungs he has, Uncle Joe," said Bob.

"Just see what nice black hair he has, too," smiled his Aunt Bettie.

"I tell you what," said Bob, after a moment's thought, "they'll have to go some to get ahead of Brookside Farm."

"This isn't the only thing that has happened since you left," said his uncle. "You ought to go down to Tony's cottage and see what's been doing there."

"What?" asked Bob.

"Oh, they have the finest little black-haired two-day-old girl you ever saw," said his aunt.

"You don't mean it," said Bob.

"Tony's so excited," said his uncle, "that he forgets everything you ask him to do."

"Well, this is certainly fine news," said Bob. "I don't suppose I dare go down and see her."

"I think I'd wait a day or two if I were you, Bob, before going down."

Bob and his uncle now retired to the sitting room and were talking over the events that had happened while he was away, when Alex Wallace dropped in to see them.

"How's the new boy, Joe?" asked Alex.

"He's fine, Alex—greatest prize winner at Brookside Farm."

"Where have you been, Bob?" asked Alex.

"I've been visiting my father and mother," said Bob.

"I came over to see about the ice, Joe," said Alex. "I suppose, since you've made the improvements at Brookside, we can't go down to the pond and help ourselves any more."

"You had better talk that over with Bob," said his uncle, as the baby began to cry and he left them to see what was happening to it.

"That's right," said Bob; "we pay for everything we get and charge for everything that goes off the farm."

"You don't mean you're going to charge for ice!" exclaimed Alex almost incredulously.

"Well, why not?" said Bob. "It's worth something, isn't it? The pond cost us money and occupies ground that could be used for other purposes."

"That's so," said Alex. "I hadn't thought of that."

"The pond has to pay rent for the ground, and ice is one of the things it produces."

"What does ice bring this winter?" asked Alex.

"Fifty cents per ton on the water," said Bob, "and you cut it yourself."

"How can you tell how much it takes to make a ton?" asked Alex.

"Oh, that's easy," said Bob. "You measure the size of the cakes, and, when you know the thickness, you can refer to a schedule in one of the bulletins and that will tell you exactly how much it weighs."

"Well, I don't think my father will be willing to pay for ice," said Alex.

"Why not?" said Bob. "It's worth something."

"Yes, but nobody charges for ice," said Alex.

"Well, of course, if you know of any one who has nice ice to give away, that's the place to get it," said Bob, "but if you want ice from Brookside, you better let us know soon, because three or four people are asking for the full cutting of the pond, and, of course, we want to fill our own icehouse first, and after that—first come, first served."

"You had better hold it for us, Bob, until I find out."

"You'll have to make up your mind whether you want it or not; there's the telephone—call up your father and see what he says."

After a few minutes talk with his father, Alex came out of the office and said:

"We'll take it, Bob. Put us down for the first cutting after you get your own off. I think it will take a full cutting of the entire pond to fill our icehouse. There's another thing I was going to ask you about, too. Could we have Tony a while to help us with some concrete work?"

"What are you going to build, Alex?" asked Bob.

"Oh, we want to make some concrete fence posts, and fence in our property. Since father sold the sixty-acre farm to the First National Bank we thought we'd improve the remaining hundred and forty by putting up a wire fence on concrete posts."

"You'd have to put up a shed and get some moulds and all that sort of thing," said Bob. "Why not let us sell you posts?"

"Will you sell us some?" asked Alex.

"Surely," said Bob. "Tony has been making a lot of fence posts this winter. We're going to make a regular business."

"How much will they cost us?" asked Alex.

"Seventy-five cents at the pit and you can haul them yourselves."

"I'll speak to father about it and see what he says. He rather thought, though, we'd make them ourselves."

"Just as you like," said Bob. "The posts will cost you less if you make them yourselves and you'll have the advantage, when the shed is once up, you can make all kinds of things."

"I think that's what we'd rather do. I'd like to work in cement myself. I think it must be very interesting, and I'd like to get father started so we can get some concrete buildings like Brookside Farm. You haven't any idea, Bob, how nice your buildings look from over at the turn of the road."

"Oh, yes, I do. I often stop when I'm coming out from town to take a look from that point."

"How long do you want Tony?" asked Bob.

"We'd like to have him two or three weeks," said Alex.

"That will be all right—we can let him go."

The next few weeks Bob spent sharpening up their tools, oiling the machines and touching up the paint on those that showed wear. As soon as this was completed, he began making fifty additional concrete apiaries. The bees had paid so well the previous year that he decided to increase their number to one hundred colonies. Another thing that caused him to arrive at this decision was a letter from Edith, a few days before, saying she had her mother's permission to return to Brookside in the early spring and that she would again spend the summer with them.

"Do you know what day this is, Bob?" asked his uncle a few weeks later, as they sat down to breakfast.

"It's Thursday, Uncle Joe," said Bob.

"Yes, Thursday, March first, and it will be just one year to-morrow since you came to Brookside Farm. Your Aunt Bettie and I've been talking it over and we've decided we should take our inventory to-day and balance our books to-night, and see how much we've made or lost during the year," he added smiling. "Bettie thinks it's better to take inventory on March first instead of April first, so that all the labor that goes on the spring plowing may be charged in the new year. As soon as we have our breakfast, Bob, we'll go to the barn and take a careful inventory of all the grain, live stock, poultry and other products."

It took them until four o'clock in the afternoon to make the inventory, which was then laid aside until after supper, when they would figure out the amount and compare the results with the previous year.

They had just sat down to supper when the door of the dining room was suddenly opened and there stood Ruth and Edith, cheeks aglow and eyes sparkling.

"Where in the world did you girls come from?" asked their aunt, who was the first to see them.

"Oh, we came in on the afternoon train," laughed Ruth, "and we got Henry Smith to drive us out. We wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you certainly have," said their uncle, as they all crowded around to welcome them back to Brookside Farm.

"Where's your new farmhand, Aunt Bettie?" asked Ruth. "I want to see him."

Her aunt looked puzzled for a moment and then said:

"He's around somewhere if you'd like to see him, but why are you so anxious to see him, Ruth? He's Tony's brother, you know."

"Oh, I mean Joseph Williams, Jr.," exclaimed Ruth excitedly.

"Oh, he's asleep upstairs," said her aunt; "you may see him directly, but you must have something to eat first."

Their wraps were soon removed. A few minutes later happenings on Brookside Farm were intermingled with happenings in New England, as they asked and answered each others' questions.

After supper was over and while the girls were inspecting the new baby, Bob and his uncle sat in the office and figured out the inventory. Bob was just completing the written statement of the account, when his aunt and the two girls came into the office.

"Have you the inventory finished yet?" asked his aunt.

"Just finished," he said, laying down the sheet.

"Then we're just in time," said Edith, "for that's why we planned to reach here to-day; we wanted to know the result of the year's work, and I'm sure it must be a good report."

INVENTORY

APRIL 15, MARCH 1, ITEM 1916 1917

Farm, 125 acres............................$6,000.00 $6,000.00 New Buildings.........................................20,000.00 Cows: 10 head @ $175 .............................1,750.00 1,500.00 8 head @ $60 .................................480.00 Heifers, 5 head @ $50....................................250.00 Bulls: 1 head @ $350 ................................350.00 350.00 1 head @ $75 ..................................75.00 Calves, 4 head @ $10...........................40.00 Horses: 2 head @ $350 ................................700.00 600.00 2 head @ $200 ................................400.00 Colts, 2 head @ $200..........................400.00 Hogs: 5 head @ $40 .................................200.00 150.00 6 head @ $30 .................................180.00 8 head @ $25 .................................200.00 1 head @ $75 ..................................75.00 Sheep, 12 head @ $20..........................240.00 240.00 Chickens ......................................50.00 550.00 Machinery and Tools...........................125.00 5,000.00 Automobile....................................440.00 1,400.00 Feed and Supplies.............................300.00 566.00 Growing Crops (Labor and Seed).................80.00 150.00 Cash..........................................110.00 3,725.00 Bills Receivable...............................75.00 1,275.00 Seed on Hand..................................600.00 Ice ...........................................60.00 Wood .........................................200.00 Total Resources...........................$11,520.00 $43,366.00 Mortgage and Bills Payable..................6,000.00 31,500.00 Net Worth..................................$5,620.00 $11,866.00 Gain for the Year...........................6,246.00 $11,866.00 $11,866.00

Her aunt picked up the sheet and read it over carefully and said:

"The farm shows a gross earning of $12,420 for the new year, and after paying the interest on the mortgage and loans of $1860; $2000 for wages and $2214 for new furniture, piano, victrola and new automobile, a total of $6074, it still leaves a balance $6346, as a net gain, and that without counting the earnings from the sand pit. Our new buildings and fencing cost us $20,000, and our new machinery and tools $5000. The farm shows a profit of $124 per acre for the ground under cultivation. If we do as well this coming year as we did last year, we ought to have the farm free and clear, but, of course, we won't have to depend on that as we have the earnings from the sand pit to help out, if we want to use it for that purpose, but instead of paying off the mortgage in full, I think we will irrigate the seven acres along the main road and put that field under intensive cultivation."

"We ought to do a great deal better next year, Uncle Joe," said Bob, "as we won't have the buildings to bother with and I can devote all my time to the work; then we ought to be able to do a great deal more work, too, on account of the saving of time, due to having modern buildings and all our power installed, which we didn't have for the full season last year."

They studied the inventory for some minutes, comparing the gross earnings per acre of one crop with another, and were very much surprised to find that in many cases crops they had previously thought to be quite profitable showed up in the schedule rather poorly by comparison with others.

"Why, the oats seem to have earned only $21 per acre, while the corn shows an earning of $44 per acre—more than twice as much as the oats," said Edith.

"You know, Edith," said her uncle, "that after the oats were taken off we pastured sixty pigs in the oat stubble for the balance of the summer. Of course, that must be credited up to the oat field, because the crop made it possible to raise the rape and afford a good pasture for them."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," said Edith.

"The apples paid well," said Ruth; "almost $140 per acre, and we were just starting our new system of selling by mail."

"Of course, last year we had an exceptionally nice crop," said their aunt, "which was partly due, no doubt, to Bob's bees, and I think some credit should be given to the dynamiting of the land. Next year I'm sure we can sell every apple raised at a good price."

"Did we make $430 out of pigs last year?" asked Ruth, looking at the hog account.

"That's what we did," laughed her uncle.

"I had no idea so much money could be made raising pigs."

"Well, that's probably due to two reasons," said her uncle; "first, we started with a good breed, and, second, we took good care of them. You see we use a well-lighted and ventilated piggery and were able to average two litters in the year, which, of course, is just twice as good as raising one. Then we were fortunate in having good litters. We raised eight pigs per litter, which is beyond the average."

"Of course, Uncle Joe, Brookside Farm is no 'average' farm, and we ought to do better than average farming," she said.

"Yes, Ruth, but it takes work and study to do that and the information that is in the bulletins must be transferred into our heads if we're going to work successfully."

Hearing his wife chuckle, Williams looked up and said:

"Well, now, Bettie, what are you laughing at?"

"I was just thinking of our conference a year ago when we made up our first inventory. I was the school teacher then, but I've evidently lost my position, for you are now the teacher of modern methods, Joe," said his wife.

"And why not? Haven't you a job now that's big enough for any woman, looking after that son of ours?"

"Well, I guess that will take some of my time, Joe," she laughed, "but just the same I'm pleased to know you're so interested in scientific investigation."

"The potatoes paid $170 per acre," said Edith, "which is the highest rate per acre of all."

"The wheat averaged well, too," said Joe Williams, "a little over $41 per acre. I'm sorry we didn't have a larger acreage in hay—this statement shows an earning of over $50 per acre."

"That's so," said Bob, "but the dairy has earned a larger amount than any of the rest, for after deducting all expenses it shows a clear profit of $2954."

"The poultry made a good showing, too, I want you to observe," said Edith; "$1373 isn't bad for a flock of chickens, I'd have you know, and remember, we were only making our start last year. One person could handle 1000 hens just as easily as 500, and the profit would be relatively larger. I'm sure the poultry will beat the dairy this coming year."

"But look at Bob's 'Hidden Treasure' here," smiled Joe Williams; "$400 worth of ice off that little pond, and to think we allowed the neighbors to take away all they wanted for nothing in previous years."

"Speaking of 'Hidden Treasure,' don't forget the $300 we got for cord wood from the old rail fences, Uncle Joe," said Bob.

"They've all made a good showing," said his aunt, "and I think next year we can make the farm average $150 per acre or better."

"It certainly is a good report," said Bob, "and I think we all should be very happy that our combined efforts have produced such fine results."

"By the way, Bob," said his uncle, "when I settled with you last November, I paid you up to only November first, so here's a check for $225 for your wages to date. I figured it out at the new rate rather than the old one. Hereafter, I'll give you a check on the first day of each month."

Bob took the check and looked at it. Then he discovered that he had not one check, but two.

"Why, who is this other check for, Uncle Joe?" he asked, handing back the second one.

"That's for you, too, Bob."

"You don't owe me this money, Uncle Joe," he said, looking at the check.

"Yes, I do, Bob. Do you remember the day we let the water out of the pond?"

"But we took that into account when you paid me in November."

"Oh, no, Bob, I didn't. I just paid you for your actual work then, not for any ideas you furnished. This is for the suggestions you furnished. It was you who suggested the draining of the pond and the selling of the sand and gravel—and more than that, you saved me several thousand dollars by advising me not to sell the sand pit to Brady when I needed a little money so badly. Now, I'm paying you what I think is yours by right."

"I couldn't think of taking any money from you for that kind of work, Uncle Joe," persisted Bob.

"Your Aunt Bettie, John White and I have talked it over, Bob, and we felt that one-third of the money earned by the sand pit should be paid to you. Our records show that after paying Duncan Wallace and a few other charges, the pit has earned a little over $9000, and one-third of this, or your share, is $3000, so you must take the check for that amount, Bob."

"Why, that would more than pay for the sixty acres John White is holding in trust for me," said Bob, realizing for the first time what so much money actually meant.

"Of course," laughed his uncle, "that's why he bought it. He and I talked this matter over before Christmas and we decided that that was the best way to arrange it. All you need to do now is to deposit this check and draw one in favor of the First National Bank for $1700 plus the interest, and then you can put up a sign on the sixty acres of land adjoining Brookside, 'Robert Williams, Proprietor.' I have a suggestion to make to you, Bob," continued his uncle, after they had discussed the acquiring of the new farm for some time; "I think, now that the buildings are all up, we could handle your sixty acres along with Brookside for a year or two until you get ready to take the farm over for yourself," and his eyes shifted from Bob to Edith, and back to Bob again, as he talked.

"I think that would be a good arrangement, Uncle, Joe; we could use the land for pasturing, if we couldn't plant it all."

"Let's go into the living room," said Ruth, "and have some music. Have you seen Aunt Bettie's new piano yet, Edith?"

"No, I haven't," said Edith.

"Oh, you must see it, Edith, and play it, too," and they adjourned to the living room and gathered around the piano, where for an hour or more they gave expression to their joyful feelings in music.

"I tell you," said Joe Williams, as they sang the "Happy Farmer" song, "there's nothing like music to give anyone vent for their feelings. I didn't list the piano in our assets, but I really think it's one of the best we have on the farm, because it helps to bring us together and keep us happy."

"May I play the victrola a while, Aunt Bettie?" asked Ruth.

"If you want to," said her aunt.

"How much did you say the poultry brought us last year?" asked Edith suddenly, as Ruth began playing.

"I don't exactly remember," said Bob, "but it's in the book in the office."

"Let's go and take a look at it," she said, and they left the others and adjourned to the office.

Edith sat down in the chair at the desk. Bob opened the book at the poultry account, and, sitting on the arm of the chair, their heads close together, they began studying the figures.

"I think it's perfectly splendid," said Edith, "the showing the poultry made last year, and you know, Bob, we had a rather bad start in the spring on account of not having the buildings erected."

"That was your good work, Edith," he said, letting his arm fall lightly across her shoulders.

"I was never so happy as last summer here on the farm and I could scarcely wait until I came back again this spring, Bob," she said, looking up at him.

Bob was silent for a few moments, and then suddenly asked:

"Do you like the country well enough, Edith, to be willing to stay here always, and be Mrs. Robert Williams?"

After a short silence, Edith looked at him shyly and said:

"Yes, Bob, I would," nestling close to him. "I don't know any place where I could be happier than here and I've never met anyone with whom I could be happier than with you."

"I've loved you ever since I first met you, Edith," he declared, "and I'm sure we'll be very happy together," and Bob leaned over and kissed the inviting upturned lips.

"Oh! Uncle Joe, just come here and see what's going on in your office," shouted Ruth. "Bob's kissing Edith."

"Have you been spying on them, Ruth?" remonstrated her aunt.

"Spying on them, Aunt Bettie? How could I be spying on them when they left the door wide open and the lights turned on? I couldn't help but see them when I looked in."

At Ruth's interruption, Bob and Edith had jumped up from the desk and stood blushing in the doorway leading from the office to the living room. Suddenly Bob took her hand and together they stepped out into the room before the others.

"Let me introduce to you the greatest 'Hidden Treasure' that was ever found on Brookside Farm, the future Mrs. Robert Williams."

THE END