Halstead and I had been going to school for four or five days when on
coming home one afternoon we found a great stir of activity round the
west barn. Timbers and boards had been fetched from an old shed on the
"Aunt Hannah lot"--a family appurtenance of the home farm--and lay
heaped on the ground. Two of the hired men were laying foundation stones
along the side of the barn. Addison, who had just driven in with a load
of long rafters from the old Squire's mill on Lurvey's Stream, called to
us to help him unload them.
"Why, what's going to be built?" we exclaimed.
"Haymaker," he replied shortly.
The answer did not enlighten us.
"'Haymaker'?" repeated Halstead wonderingly.
"Yes, haymaker," said Addison. "So bear a hand here. We've got to hurry,
too, if we are to make any hay this year." He then told us that the old
Squire had driven to the village six miles away, to get a load of
hothouse glass. While we stood pondering that bit of puzzling
information, a third hired man drove into the yard on a heavy wagon
drawn by a span of work horses. On the wagon was the old fire box and
the boiler of a stationary steam engine that we had had for some time in
the shook shop a mile down the road.
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