August, and with the softness has gone twenty or thirty pounds of
useless flesh. I am hard, active, and strong for a man of sixty, and I
can do a fair day's work. To tell the truth, I prefer the moderate work
that falls to the lot of the Headman, rather than the more strenuous
life of the husbandman; but I find an infinite deal to thank the farm
for in health and physical comfort.
CHAPTER IX
HOUSE-CLEANING
After dinner I telephoned the veterinary surgeon that I wanted another
team. He replied that he thought he knew of one that would suit, and
that he would let me know the next day. I also telephoned two "want
ads." to a morning paper, one for an experienced farm-hand, the other
for a woman to do general housework in the country. Polly was to
interview the women who applied, and I was to look after the men. That
night I slept like a hired man.
Out of the dozen who applied the next day I accepted a Swede by the name
of Anderson. He was about thirty, tall, thin, and nervous. He did not
fit my idea of a stockman, but he looked like a worker, and as I could
furnish the work we soon came to terms.
A few words more about Anderson. He proved a worker indeed. He had an
insatiable appetite for work, and never knew when to quit. He was not
popular at the farm, for he was too eager in the morning to start and
too loath in the evening to stop. His unbridled passion for work was a
thing to be deplored, as it kept him thin and nervous. I tried to
moderate this propensity, but with no result. Anderson could not be
trusted with horses, or, indeed, with animals of any kind, for he made
them as nervous as himself; but in all other kinds of work he was the
best man ever at Four Oaks. He worked for me nearly three years, and
then suddenly gave out from a pain in his left chest and shortness of
breath. I called a physician for poor Anderson, and the diagnosis was
dilatation of the heart from over-exercise.
"A rare disease among farm-hands, Dr. Williams," said Dr. High, but my
conscience did not fully forgive me. I asked Anderson to stay at the
farm and see what could be done by rest and care. He declined this, as
well as my offer to send him to a hospital. He expressed the liveliest
gratitude for kindnesses received and others offered, but he said he
must be independent and free. He had nearly $1200 in a savings bank in
the city, and he proposed to use it, or such portion of it as was
necessary. I saw him two months lat
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