Ted and the Telephone | Page 6

earthly use. However, you
won't be here long if you're not--that's one thing. You'll find a pitchfork
in the barn. Follow along behind the men who are mowing and spread
the grass out."
"I know."
"Oh, you do, do you! Trust people your size for knowing everything."
To the final remark the lad vouchsafed no reply. Instead he moved
away and soon returned, fork in hand. What a flood of old memories
came surging back with the touch of the implement! Again he was in
Vermont in the stretch of mowings that fronted the old white house
where he was born. The scent of the hay in his nostrils stirred him like
an elixir, and with a thrill of pleasure he set to work. He had not
anticipated toiling out there in the hot sunshine at a task which he had
always disliked; but to-day, by a strange miracle, it did not seem to be a
task so much as a privilege.
How familiar the scene was! As he approached the group of older men
it took him only a second to see where he was needed and he thrust his
pitchfork into the swath at his feet with a swing of easy grace.
"Guess you've done this job before," called a man behind him after he
had worked for an interval.
"Yes, I have."
"You show it," was the brief observation.

They moved on in silence up the field.
"Where'd you learn to handle that fork, sonny?" another voice shouted,
as they neared the farther wall.
"In Vermont," laughed Ted.
"I judged as much," grunted the speaker. "They don't train up farmers
of your size in this part of the world."
Ted flushed with pleasure and for the first time he stopped work and
mopped the perspiration from his forehead. He was hot and thirsty but
he found himself strangely exhilarated by the exercise and the sweet
morning air and sunshine. Again he took up his fork and tossed the
newly cut grass up into the light, spreading it on the ground with a
methodical sweep of his young arm. The sun had risen higher now and
its dazzling brilliance poured all about him. Up and down the meadow
he went and presently he was surprised to find himself alone near the
point from which he had started. His fellow-laborers were no longer in
sight. The field was very still and because it was, Ted began to whistle
softly to himself.
He was startled to hear a quiet laugh at his elbow.
"Don't you ever eat anything, kid?"
Mr. Wharton was standing beside him, a flicker of amusement in his
gray eyes.
"I didn't know it was noon," gasped Ted.
"We'll have to tie an alarm clock on you," chuckled the manager. "The
gang stopped work a quarter of an hour ago."
"I didn't notice they had."
The boy flushed. He felt very foolish to have been discovered working
there all by himself in this ridiculous fashion.

"I wanted to finish this side of the field and I forgot about the time," he
stammered apologetically.
"Have you done it to your satisfaction?"
"Yes, I'm just through."
For the life of him Ted could not tell whether the manager was
laughing at him or not. He kicked the turf sheepishly.
"Aren't you tired?" inquired Mr. Wharton at length.
"No--at least--well, I haven't thought about it. Perhaps I am a little."
"And well you may be. You've put in a stiff morning's work. You'd
better go and wash up now and eat your lunch. Take your full hour of
rest. No matter if the others do get back here before you. Stevens says
you are worth any two of them, anyway."
"It's just that I'm used to it," was the modest reply.
"We'll let it go at that," Mr. Wharton returned ambiguously. "And one
thing more before you go. You needn't worry about staying on. We can
use you one way or another all summer. There'll always be work for a
boy who knows how to do a job well."
CHAPTER III
GOING TO HOUSEKEEPING
Thus it came about that Ted Turner began the long, golden days of his
summer vacation at the great estates of the Fernalds, and soon he had
made himself such an indispensable part of the farming staff that both
Mr. Wharton and Mr. Stevens came to rely on him for many services
outside of those usually turned over to the men.
"Just step over to the south lot at Pine Lea, Ted, and see if those fellows
are thinning the beets properly," Mr. Wharton would say. "I gave them

their orders but they may not have taken them in. You know how the
thing should be done. Sing out to them if they are not doing the job
right."