The Young Surveyor Part 20

Will you saw, or split?"

Wad laughed, and said he would split,--perhaps because the sawing must be done first.

"This saw is in a frightful condition!" Rufe said, stopping to breathe after sawing a few sticks.

"So is this axe; look at the edge! It's too dull even to split with,"

said Wad. "A small boy might ride to mill on it without suffering any very great inconvenience."

"If father would only file and set this saw, I'd help you grind the axe," said Rufe.

The paternal Betterson was just then returning from a little walk about his estate. As he approached, hat in hand, wiping his n.o.ble forehead, under the shade of the oaks, Rufe addressed him.

"We've got to have wood in the house; now _she_'s come, it won't do to get it by little driblets, and have her waiting for it and worrying about it. I'll saw it, if you'll only set the saw; you know how, and I don't; we'll do the hard work if you'll furnish a little of your skill."

Rufe knew how to appeal to the paternal vanity. The idea of furnis.h.i.+ng, not labor, but skill, flattered my lord.

"Ah! let me look at the saw. And bring me the file. And set out the shave-horse. I'll show you how the thing is done."

When Link, who in the mean while had been dressing the prairie chickens behind the house, came round and saw his pompous papa sitting under an oak-tree, astride the "shave-horse," filing away at the saw held in its clumsy jaws, and Wad turning the grindstone close by, while Rufe held on the axe, he ran into the house laughing.

"Mother! just look out there! Father and Rufe and Wad all at work at once! Guess the world's coming to an end!"

"I hope some of our troubles are coming to an end," sighed poor Mrs.

Betterson, who sat nursing her babe with a bottle. "It's all owing to _her_. A new broom sweeps clean. She brings a very good influence; but I can't hope it will last."

"O mother!" said Cecie, from her lounge, "don't say that. I am sure it will last; she is so good! You'll do all you can for her, won't you, Link?"

"I bet!" was Link's laconic response. "If _they_ only will, too, for there ain't much fun in doing ch.o.r.es while father and Rufe and Wad are just loafing round."

He hastened to Vinnie with his chickens.

"Just look out there once! All at it! Ain't it fun?"

It was fun to Vinnie, indeed.

CHAPTER XIX.

LINK'S WOOD-PILE.

The dinner, though late that day, was unusually sumptuous, and Betterson and his boys brought to it keen appet.i.tes from their work. Vinnie's cooking received merited praise, and the most cordial good-will prevailed. Even little Chokie, soiling face and fingers with a "drum-stick" he was gnawing, lisped out his commendation of the repast.

"I wish Aunt Vinnie would be here forever, and div us dood victuals."

"I second the motion!" cried Link, sucking a "wish-bone," and then setting it astride his nose,--"to dry," as he said.

"One would think we never had anything fit to eat before," said Mrs.

Betterson; while my lord looked flushed and frowning over his frayed stock.

"You know, mother," said Lill, "I never could cook prairie chickens. And you haven't been well enough to, since the boys began to shoot them."

"Lincoln," said Mrs. Betterson, "remove that unsightly object from your nose! Have you forgotten your manners?"

"He never had any!" exclaimed Rufe, s.n.a.t.c.hing the wish-bone from its perch.

"Here! give that back! I'm going to keep it, and wish with Cecie bimeby, and we're both going to wish that Aunt Vinnie had come here a year ago--that is--I mean--pshaw!" said Link, whose ideas were getting rather mixed.

Poor Mrs. Betterson complained a great deal to her sister that afternoon of the impossibility of keeping up the style and manners of the family in that new country.

Vinnie--who sat holding the baby by Cecie's lounge--asked why the family had chosen that new country.

"Mr. Betterson had been unfortunate in business at the East, and it was thought best that he should try Illinois," was Caroline's way of stating that after her husband had run through two small fortunes which had fallen to him, and exhausted the patience of relatives upon whom he was constantly calling for help, a wealthy uncle had purchased this farm for him, and placed him on it to be rid of him.

"I should think you might sell the farm and move away," said Vinnie.

"There are certain obstacles," replied Caroline; the said uncle, knowing that Lord could not keep property from flying away, having shrewdly tied this down by means of a mortgage.

"One thing," Caroline continued, "I have always regretted. A considerable sum of money fell to Mr. Betterson after we came here; and he--wisely, we thought at the time, but unfortunately, as it proved--put it into this house. We expected to have a large part of it left; but the cost of building was such that all was absorbed before the house was finished."

Such was Caroline's account of the manner in which the "castle" came to be built. Vinnie was amazed at the foolish vanity and improvidence of the lord of it; but she only said,--

"There seems to be a great deal of unused room in the house; I should think you might let that, and a part of the farm, to another family."

Caroline smiled pityingly.

"Lavinia dear, you don't understand. _We_ could never think of taking another family into _our_ house, for the sake of _money_! though it might be well to let the farm. Besides, there is really one more in the family than you see. I think I haven't yet spoken to you of Radcliff,--my husband's nephew."

"You mentioned such a person in your letter to me," replied Vinnie.

"Ah, yes; when I was giving some of the reasons why we had never had you come and live with us. Well off as we were at one time,--and are now in prospect, if not in actual appearance,--we could not very well take you as a child into our family, if we took Radcliff. He was early left an orphan, and it was thought best by the connections that he should be brought up by my husband. I a.s.sure you, Lavinia, that n.o.body but a Betterson should ever have been allowed to take your place in _our_ family."

Vinnie pictured to herself a youth of precious qualities and great promise, and asked,--

"Where is Radcliff now?"

"He is not with us just at present. He is of age, and his own master; and though we make a home for him, he's away a good deal."

"What is his business?"

"He has no fixed pursuit. He is, in short, a gentleman at large."

"What supports him?"

"He receives a limited allowance from our relatives on the Betterson side," said Caroline, pleased with the interest her sister seemed to take in the ill.u.s.trious youth. "He is not so stylish a man as my husband, by any means; my husband is a Betterson of the Bettersons. But Radcliff has _the blood_, and is _very_ aristocratic in his tastes."

Caroline enlarged upon this delightful theme, until Cecie (who seemed to weary of it) exclaimed,--