p, I see. I suppose a millionaire
like me ought to hire those things done, but
I'd have measles of the mind if I sat around
doing nothing."

"I have been wanting to get the place in
good order for some time," said Miss Mattie,
"but what with the money I had to spend for
this and that, and not being able to get
Mr. Joyce to come in for a day's work when I
wanted him, it's gone on, until there is a good
deal of wrack to it."

"We'll wrack it t'other way round in no
time--got any tools here?"

"Out in the barn is what's left of father's
tools--people have borrowed 'em and forgot
to return 'em, and they've rusted or been
lost until I'm afraid there ain't many of 'em
left."

"Well, I'll get along to-day somehow, and
later on we'll stock up--want any help around
the house?"

"Thank you, no, Will."

"Then I'm off."

It was almost with a feeling of terror that
Miss Mattie beheld him root up the fence.
Her idea of repairing was to put in a picket
here and there where it was most needed;
Red's was to knock it all flat first, and set it
up in A1 condition afterward. So, in two
hours' time he straightened up and snapped
the sweat from his brow, beholding the slain
pickets prone on the grass with thorough
satisfaction. Yet he felt tired, for the day was
already hot with a moist and soaking
sea-coast heat, to which the plainsman was
unaccustomed. A three-quarter-grown boy passed
by, lounging on the seat of a farm waggon.

"Hey!" hailed Red. The boy stopped and
turned slowly around.

"Yes, sir," he answered courteously enough.

"Want a job?" said Red.

"Well, I dunno," replied the boy. He was
much astonished at the appearance of his
interrogator, and he was a cautious New
England boy to boot.

"_You_ don't know?" retorted Red. "Well,"
with some sarcasm, "d'ye suppose I could
find out at the post-office?"

The boy looked at Red with a twinkle in his
eye, and a comical drawing of his long mouth.

"I calc'late if you cud fin' out anyweres,
'twould be there," said he.

Red laughed. He had noticed the busy
post-mistress rushing out of her store to
waylay anyone likely to have information on any
subject, a stream of questions proceeding from
her through the door.

"Say, you got anything particular to do?"

"No, sir--leastways th'ain't no hurry about it."

"Can I buy stuff to make a fence with,
around here?"

"Yes, sir--Mister Pettigrew's got all kinds
of buildin' material at his store--two