Hidden Treasures | Page 4

to the house.
"Hello, grandma!" he shouted, as he dropped his luggage on the porch and hurried forward to meet her as she emerged from the kitchen door, a steaming kettle of vegetables in her hand.
"Why, Bob, where'd you come from?" she exclaimed, setting the kettle down and kissing him.
"I looked for grandfather and Uncle Joe when I got off the bus in town, but I couldn't see them anywhere, so I walked out," he replied.
"Why, I'm sure they expected to meet you, Bob," she replied, "but the roads are so rough, I suppose they were late. They took some grain to the mill and would have to wait for it to be ground, and they may have been delayed there--but you haven't told me yet how all the folks are."
"Oh, they're all pretty well," he replied; "but tell me, when is Uncle Joe to be married?"
"Some time in April, I believe," she replied. "Do you know you're to be his chore boy this summer?"
"Yes, father told me--it will be lots of fun. Just think--no more working all cooped up in a store like the last two summers," he replied enthusiastically.
"But it won't be all fun, you know, Bob. Your Uncle Joe has bought the farm, although it's not all paid for yet, and I imagine he'll keep you pretty busy--if I know Joe," she added.
"Let me get you some water, grandma," he said a moment later, seeing her pick up the tin water-pail; "I'll start right in now and get my hand in," he laughed.
"You always were a hustler, Bob, even if you don't grow very fast," she said, looking at his over-large clothes, as he left the kitchen.
"I hope your Uncle Joe will remember that you're not grown and can't do a man's work, even if you're willing to try," she said on his return, as she watched him set the pail of water on the kitchen table.
"Why, I'm eighteen now, grandma, and weigh one hundred and ten pounds," he answered stoutly.
"Well, this is a big farm, Bob, and it's gotten pretty well run down in the last few years with your Uncle Joe out West and your grandfather feeling too poorly to do much more than look after the crops," she said.
"Are there big fortunes to be found in the West, grandma?" he asked a moment later.
"No bigger than right here, Bob," she replied. "It's only a matter of work, and I'm beginning to believe that after all it is as much a matter of managing properly as working hard. Do you know that your grandfather and I are going to move to town as soon as your Uncle Joe gets married?"
"Why, no, I didn't--who'll look after things here when you go away?" asked Bob.
"Oh, your new aunt will see to that," she replied. "I hope you'll like her, Bob."
"Who is she and what does she look like?" he inquired with boyish eagerness.
"She used to be a school teacher and lived with us while she taught our school," she replied; "that's how your Uncle Joe met her. She has plenty of good looks--too many, I sometimes think, for a farmer's wife--and she is a real New England Yankee woman, who doesn't know how to milk cows."
"How could any one be too good-looking to be a farmer's wife, grandma?" laughed Bob. "Why should good looks keep her from being successful?"
"Well, you see, Bob, nice white hands are generally spoiled by rough work," said the old lady.
"But why will she have to do the rough work when she comes here?" persisted Bob.
"Oh, I guess she won't have any to do--at least, that's what your Uncle Joe says," replied his grandmother with a haughty toss of her head. "That's what he's got you down on the farm for."
"Oh," said Bob, dryly, "and so that's why he was so extremely anxious for me to come."
"Yes, that's why, Bob--you might as well know sooner as later, that you're going to be a pretty busy boy this summer. Your Uncle Joe is so big and strong that he never gets tired and doesn't know when to quit, and he expects every one else to work just as hard and as long as he does. Besides," she added, "I don't think he'll want HIS wife to spoil her nice white hands."
"What's her name?" inquired Bob, not in the least worried by his grandmother's gloomy predictions.
"Betsy Atwood--but your uncle calls her Bettie," replied his grandmother.
"Aunt Bettie," repeated Bob. "A pretty name!"
"H'm!" sniffed his grandmother. "I'm certainly glad you like it, and I hope you'll like her as well--it will help to make the work seem easier to you."
"Why, there's grandfather and Uncle Joe now," said Bob a moment later, as he glanced through the kitchen window toward the barn, and catching up his cap he rushed