“That’s something like it, Jan! Now we can have fresh eggs for breakfast every morning,” said Belle.
“Anyway, I’d rather pay cash for the cow than feel as if we had to buy everything from Ames!” was Natalie’s comment.
They had been standing near the field fence of Natalie’s garden as they planned. Now they saw the girl scouts from Solomon’s Seal Camp coming up the hill toward the house. They watched them as Janet said: “Let Jimmy tell them the surprise.”
As soon as Miss Mason and her scouts joined the other group, therefore, Mrs. James told them about the Cow Company. At first they laughed even as the girls before them had done, but the suggestion was acceptable from many points of view, and Miss Mason said: “I wish we could own shares in the cow.”
Mrs. James looked from one to the other of her girls and finding they approved of the idea just expressed, she said: “We might sell each one of you one share in our cow—when we get her!”
“Oh, I have it! Listen to this: Let’s form a real stock company incorporated on the cow for the asset. We’ll divide it into shares of so much a share. No stockholder can own more than one share, then we won’t feel jealous of each other. We will pay all costs out of the capital paid in for stock and we will pay all dividends twice a month, from the money we take in from camp and from the house and from Janet’s pigs. Now, how is that?” Natalie’s exultant face showed what she thought of her plan.
The others laughed at the very idea of incorporating a cow, and Mrs. James remarked humorously: “Natalie inherits the gift of high finance.”
It was the first time any one had referred to her father in the girl’s presence, and this mention of Mr. Averill’s business ability proved that Natalie had quite overcome her morbid sorrow that she had entertained in the city. Now she laughed gayly and said: “If I take after Daddy I’ll be a great financial magnate soon!”
“Oh, please don’t get switched from our cow, girls!” said Janet, anxiously.
“I’ve heard it said that cows have a dreadful habit of switching their tails in your face while you milk them,” said Belle.
“Cows have lots of tricks that you never learn until they are practiced upon you,” laughed Miss Mason.
“Some cows horn you,” ventured Norma, fearfully.
This caused a laugh, and again Janet begged: “Come, let’s get back to the business. Do we syndicate this cow or only have partners?”
“We might take a ballot on the question before the Chair,” laughed Mrs. James.
“No, it is either ‘aye’ or ‘nay’—from every one,” said Natalie, and the “ayes” had it unanimously.
“All right, then. We’ll proceed to the house and I’ll draw up an agreement such as I have often seen Daddy do. Then we’ll have one of the scout artists make us each a share of stock with a cow’s head at the top for our emblem. How much shall we charge for each share of stock?” As Natalie finished speaking she glanced around at the circle of smiling faces.
“Better find out first how much the cow will cost. We may not have enough money in the treasury to pay for her, if we collect payments now for the stock and do not collect enough,” was Janet’s sensible suggestion.
“When Natalie finishes that arduous task of drawing up a corporation agreement, I will read you something from the book ‘Scouting for Girls’ which you may not have read very carefully,” remarked Miss Mason.
Mrs. James went for the book and when it was handed the Captain of Solomon’s Seal Camp, she opened the book at page 507, and read:
Dairy Maid. Symbol—Milking Stool.
As Miss Mason concluded reading the article, the girls looked at each other, and one of them said: “Who can answer those questions?”
Then it developed that three of the girl scouts of Solomon’s Seal could not only reply correctly to the questions, but could give more valuable information than was expected of them. Miss Mason knew they had been born and reared on farms, but the girls under Mrs. James’s care were not aware of it.
“That simplifies our troubles with the cow, right off,” declared Janet. “We’ll ask the three wise ones to show us how to do things right.”
“And Rachel and I will umpire the contests of milking and churning,” added Mrs. James.
“Now that we have decided to form a corporation do you not think the three village scouts should be invited to take a share in the cow, if they so desire?” suggested Miss Mason.
“Oh, of course! We forgot all about them,” said Natalie.
“We’ll invite them to join us when Frances drives to Four Corners this afternoon,” added Janet.
“Those girls can milk a cow like anything! And they all can churn butter, too,” announced Norma.
“If we keep on adding members to our stock company the poor cow will be divided into minutest pieces to enable each stock owner to hold a share,” remarked Mrs. James laughingly.
“Well, the more shares we have to make of the cow the less each one will cost us,” said Natalie.
“And the less our dividends will be, too,” added Janet
“Whether we get dividends or not, we will have our milk, butter and cream, right at hand all the time. And if we want to sell the cow in the Fall we can get our money back again,” said Miss Mason.
“If we haven’t killed her before then,” was Belle’s pessimistic reply.
“If we kill her we can collect insurance, you know,” and this remark from Janet caused a general laugh.
After many other interesting details were discussed and decided upon, it was planned that the hunt for the cow would begin the following morning. Miss Mason was delegated to act for the Camp girls as the automobile would not hold all of the scouts. Miss Mason accepted the responsibility with a speech, and then the two groups parted. The scouts went back to camp and the farm girls went to look after their individual tasks.
But the proposed hunt for the cow did not take place the following day as Mrs. James had said it would, because a postcard arrived on the late mail announcing the appearance of Sam, Rachel’s nephew, on the first train from the city which would stop at Four Corners.
Rachel was overjoyed at the news, and Mrs. James thought it best to send the automobile to meet Sam in case he had not been given specific directions of how to find the farm. This plan would interfere with the scouts driving about the country in search for their cow.
When Frances started for the station in the morning, the other girls accompanied her, as they purposed a visit to Nancy Sherman and Hester Tompkins to interest them in the corporation. They became so interested in this absorbing topic that the incoming train was forgotten. When it was remembered and the girls hastened to reach the station, they found the train had been in and gone again, some time before they got there.
“We’ll overtake him on the road to Green Hill anyway,” remarked Frances, as she started the automobile back along the road to the farm.
They did not waste time to stop at the store that time and thus they missed Sam who did stop there to ask the way. But they drove on until they reached the house. Mrs. James was over at the Camp and Rachel was leaning over the gate waiting for her nephew when the girls drove up and learned that Sam had not yet appeared on the scene.
“Shall we go back and hunt for him?” asked Natalie.
“Dear me, it’s so much time lost when we want to drive to Dorothy Ames’s and see if she will join our corporation,” said Janet, impatiently.
“You’se go right on, Chillun, ’cause I likes to have Sam to myself, foh a bit, after he comes,” announced Rachel when she saw the girls wanted to be off on their own affairs.
Without being urged, the girls drove away and secured Dorothy’s consent to share the cow with the other scouts. It was while driving to Dorothy’s that the girls picked up the dog, Grit, the account of which is fully told in the first book, “Natalie: A Garden Scout.”
That afternoon, when Mrs. James invited Sam to go with them the next day and help in selecting the cow, Sam laughed.
“I ain’t never seen a cow closer’n fifty feet, Miss James—dat is, in drivin’ past a lot where cows eat, or going by a farm while travelin’ in a train or trolley. So I don’t know a hefer from an old cow,” he explained.
“Then we have to take chances,” was Mrs. James’ reply.
When the party was crowded into the automobile and ready to start on the momentous search, Sam stood waiting to see them off, and was ready with advice: “Don’t let Wes’chester farmers play you a trick. I’ve heard say you can tell a cow’s age by her horns but maybe that was a vaudevilly joke.”
The car sped through country by-ways, and woodland roads; they passed farms and pastures galore, stopping wherever a herd of cows were grazing, or when they found one wandering along the roadside. But Mrs. James generally shook her head and signalled Frances to go on.
After several of these stops, all of which brought forth no results, Janet asked impatiently: “What was the matter with those last cows, Jimmy?”
“I am looking for a good Alderney, or a cross with a Guernsey, because they are the best milkers and need the least care.”
“Why, Jimmy! Can you tell the difference between one cow and another?” exclaimed Natalie, astonished at her chaperone’s hitherto hidden knowledge.
“I had both kinds on the farm when I was first married, and I can tell a good cow when I see one.”
Mrs. James went up several degrees in the girls’ estimation after that, but when Miss Mason called out, they forgot their interest in what Mrs. James was saying.
“We just flew past a board sign that advertised a cow and calf for sale! Let’s turn back and inquire of the farmer,” was Miss Mason’s advice.
So they backed down the road for several hundred feet and read the sign. It was nailed to the fence post in front of the house and stated just as Miss Mason had said.
“Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could buy a little calf and keep it until next year! A calf ought to be cheap and it will grow into a cow by next year, so it would be a bargain for me,” exclaimed Janet, eagerly.
But the others in the car were too engrossed in the immediate purchase of the cow to pay any attention to Janet’s hopes for raising a cow for the following year. Frances deftly turned the car into the lane that ran to the barn where the farmer stood watching them drive up.
Mrs. James returned his salute of “How-dy?” and then said: “We came to see about the cow you have advertised for sale.”
“Are you lookin’ fer someone else, er for yourself, Lady?” queried the man.
“What difference would that make?” countered Mrs. James.
“Wall, sometimes, folks just ask prices and then go tell their real buyers who come along and offer half the price.”
“Oh, do you have two prices, then?” asked Miss Mason.
“Not when you buy for yourself. When you shop fer friends I ask more,” was the man’s reply.
The girls thought this was very funny so they laughed, but the elder women frowned with disapproval. Still they waited to hear the price of the cow.
“Ef you are interested, just step this way and I will show you the critter. She’s out at pastoor, just now,” said the man.
They all got out of the car and followed the farmer down a narrow lane that ran to the lot at the further end of the farm. As they went, Mrs. James warned them wisely: “I think we have a Shylock to deal with, girls, so don’t you dare show any admiration or interest in his cows, or he will ask double the price. Leave the whole matter to me and I will bargain with him if we want the animal.”
“Jimmy, I fear you are a Shylock yourself since we came to take up farm life,” laughed Natalie.
“In this case it’s ‘when in Rome do as the Romans do,’” was the retort.
The farmer now reached the rail fence that enclosed the pasture, and lowered the bars to permit his visitors to pass within. As he walked beside Mrs. James, he pointed out a cow standing in one corner of the lot. “That’s the one for sale. She’s the best milker and the gentlest creature I’ve got. I’m real sorry to part with her.”
“Why do you do it, then?” asked Janet, bluntly.
“’Cause I got too many to care for and folks don’t want to buy a poor milker, you know. They wants to get one of your best, so I decided to give her up if she brought the price.”
“What is her price?” asked Miss Mason, but Mrs. James said nothing.
The farmer mentioned an outrageous sum and the ladies merely looked at him. Then Mrs. James said: “I only wanted to buy one cow—not pay you for the herd.”
She turned to go back up the lane, followed by the girls and Miss Mason. The latter was smiling at her companion’s remark.
“You don’t know what you’re turning down, Ma’am, when you think that price too high,” argued the farmer.
“I know that that is an old cow of a common breed. I want a cow of not more than four years of age, a cross between an Alderney and a Guernsey—or perhaps a strain of Jersey in her. And I won’t pay more than half the price you ask for that beef,” was Mrs. James’ retort.
“Wouldn’t you care to look at any of the others as long as you are here?” anxiously asked the man, seeing his customer was going away.
“No, I didn’t see a single cow in that lot that I’d pay to feed.”
“You said you had a calf for sale, but I did not see any,” was Janet’s comment at this point.
“I don’t keep the calf in the lot with the big cows. Do you want to see her?”
“What are you asking for the calf?” was Mrs. James’ reply. He mentioned a price, and the girls nudged Mrs. James to have a look at it.
The farmer led them to a small pen separated from the barns but near enough to be convenient for him. When they reached the fence they saw a little woolly calf, fat and cute as could be.
“Oh, how darling!” cried Janet, instantly in love with it.
“Isn’t it too sweet for anything!” added Natalie, clasping her hands in admiration.
“How I’d love to pat its woolly head,” said Norma.
Mrs. James had Belle and Frances on either side of her, so she managed to pinch them to keep them from expressing their sentiments so plainly. But they, too, thought the calf very fascinating. The appointed judge of the group then tried to impress the farmer with her knowledge of calves.
“He has very thin legs, I see.”
“Why, did you ever see a calf of her age with bigger legs. That’s a she, you know. In another month’s time you wouldn’t know that calf, she’d be so strong and husky.”
Mrs. James felt silenced at being trapped by the wrong use of a pronoun, so she changed the current of her criticisms. “How much does she cost you for keep on an average per day?”
The farmer mentioned a ridiculously low figure that Mrs. James derided, but she asked for the very lowest price of the calf. Perhaps she would not have done this had not Janet so persistently poked her in the back.
The girls thought the price very cheap, indeed, and their faces plainly said so. But Mrs. James shook her head. “You are asking a price for a six month’s old calf. This young thing is not worth more than half your price.”
After much bargaining, the farmer came down one-third of his first asking price, and Janet frowned severely at Mrs. James to let her know she was to take the little creature.
“Well, I’ll take her if you agree to deliver her,” said she, finally. All faces lighted up and smiled once more.
“How fer do you live from here?” asked the farmer.
“About ten to twelve miles—over at Green Hill Farm.”
“Hoh, that’s too far for me to go for nothing. Make it an extra three dollars and I’ll deliver Susy.”
“Not another cent above the price agreed for the calf. I know it is too late in the season for you to dispose of Susy in a hurry, and we are not over-anxious to buy a calf and then have all the trouble of getting her home. We really wanted a cow, you know.”
“Well, seeing how bad these girls want the calf, I’ll see if I can get her over to your place for a dollar!”
Mrs. James started for the roadway without saying a word in return to the farmer’s inuendoes, and the girls feared lest the calf be lost to them. But they had never traded with farmers before, so they were not versed in the various customs of trade.
The farmer followed them to the car but just as Mrs. James was stepping in, he said: “When do you want the calf delivered at Green Hill?”
“Tomorrow or next day,” was the reply, as if there had been no question of the man’s delivering the calf.
“If Saturday would do I would prefer it, as I drive to White Plains every Saturday, and can drop the calf on my way there.”
“All right, Saturday will do for us, too. Remember the price you quoted to me—I have several witnesses who heard what you said.”
“But I didn’t say this sale was C. O. D.!” cried the farmer. “I thought you wanted it to be a cash sale.”
“I didn’t expect to buy a calf when I started out today, but I need a cow, and I have to keep my money for that. If I get the cow cheaper than I am ready to pay, I will stop here on my way home and leave a deposit for the calf,” explained Mrs. James.
“Can’t you pay ten or five dollars down now?” asked the farmer anxiously.
“I’ll do exactly as I said—stop here on my way back, even if it takes me miles out of the way. I’ll either leave some money then, or you will be at liberty to sell the calf to some one else.”
Mrs. James told Frances to drive on, and the man was left watching them go down the road. Janet seemed to think the calf was lost to them, because no money had been paid on it.
They passed several other farms before they turned to a country road that was said to be a shortcut to Peekskill. They had not traveled this road more than two miles before they passed a wretched little house with a few acres of untilled soil about it. On the corner of the house was a sign that read: “Fine cow for sale cheap.”
“That’s the breed we are looking for,” laughed Miss Mason.
“Girls, for goodness sake don’t nudge me into pieces if you like the looks of this cow!” commanded Mrs. James, as she got down out of the car.
The girls trailed after Mrs. James as she went to the side door where a lad sat digging in the dirt. She stopped and said: “Where is your father, little boy?”
“I dunno! Nobody knows.”
This was a poser and the girls giggled, but Mrs. James changed her form of question: “Can I see your mother?”
“Ain’t got no mudder. Ain’t got nobuddy but Jipson.”
This unexpected reply brought a chorus of laughter from the girls, and a smile from Mrs. James. Before she could ask another form of question, however, a towseled head was thrust from a dormer-window and a woman called down: “Who’sat, Bobby?”
The boy looked up and said phlegmatically: “Dunno.”
“What they want?” continued the woman.
“Want my fodder, den she wants my mudder.”
The head was withdrawn and soon afterward its owner came out upon the steps and greeted the strangers. Then she said: “Bobby’s mother died at the alms house, you know, but we don’t know where his father ran to a year ago.”
Mrs. James said politely: “We’re sorry for Bobby but we came to ask about the cow you have for sale.”
“Oh, yeh! That’s it, is it. Well come this way and I’ll show her to you. She ain’t so big a looker but she milks dandy! I get ten quarts every day and twelve just after she calves. I just sold her calf and she’s givin’ me thirteen quarts this week.”
“That sounds very remarkable, but we want a cow that will give an abundance of good milk,” said Miss Mason.
“Is the milk rich with cream?” questioned Mrs. James, after nudging the teacher even as the girls had nudged her at the other farm.
“Yeh, I can churn the finest butter! I’ll give you a taste when we go back to the house.” They reached the cow shed where the animal was kept, and there they saw a small cow in the filthy yard back of the shed.
“Here Sue! Come Sue, Sue, Sue!” coaxed the woman, holding down her hand as though she held some dainty morsel in the palm.
The cow turned and came over to the fence where she could be examined. While the woman scratched the top of the cow’s head she explained why she wished to sell Sue. “That boy back there ain’t got no family, but his granddaddy lives on a good farm up Bedford Hills way. I got a letter from him t’other day offering me half shares on working the farm if I brung the boy and kept house for them both. He is an old lame man and the farm is good, so I took the job. This farm ain’t wuth shucks for a living.”
“And that is why you want to sell the cow, Miss Jipson?” asked Miss Mason.
“Yeh. She just had a calf, but I sold it to a man down on the main road yesterday.”
“Is the man’s name Folsom?” asked Mrs. James.
“Yeh—Ed Folsom. He makes money on buyin’ up cows and calves and sellin’ them again. But he wouldn’t pay a decent price for Sue so I wouldn’t let him take her. But he wants her bad.”
“I am inclined to think we just bought Sue’s calf. He said the name was Susy. Perhaps you named her after the mother,” remarked Mrs. James.
“Yeh, that’s right! Her name is Susy. And you say you bought her? Ain’t that queer that you come and want Sue, too.” Then as an afterthought flashed into her mind, she asked: “What did Ed Folsom ask you for Susy?”
Mrs. James told her the price and instantly Miss Jipson flared up angrily.
“Why the old skinflint! He wouldn’t pay me but half that price, and he promised faithful that he’d keep Susy for his own use and never sell her to some one who might butcher her!”
“We will take better care of her than he would, Miss Jipson, but he had no right to break his word to you,” said Mrs. James.
“I’d rather you did have her, ’cause Susy is a good little calf, but it makes me mad to think of all you had to pay for her. Now what about the cow?”
“Well, to be truthful, Miss Jipson, I wanted an Alderney or Guernsey, and this cow looks too small to be either, or a cross of either one.”
“No, she ain’t. She’s just plain cow but the best kind I ever saw. Bobby’s father raised her from a calf, and her mother was just such a good milker, too. You’ll find Susy will grow into as fine a cow, too.”
“What price are you asking for Sue?” now asked Mrs. James.
“Sue is like one of my own fam’ly and I would rather sell her to you for a good home, than to Folsom with his lies. If you got Susy, you oughta have Sue, too. So I will sell her for one hundred dollars.”
“When can you milk her for us?” was Mrs. James’ next question.
“Right now, if you like. I milked her early this morning, so she won’t give half as much milk as she will by night time, but you can see how gentle she is and how easy to milk.”
Then Sue was brought out and milked to every one’s satisfaction. When they were back at the house again, Miss Jipson said: “If you could call some early morning or late evening you could see the amount she milks.”
“We’ll take your word for it, Miss Jipson. But how can we get her over to our farm?” said Mrs. James.
“Ain’t Folsom going to carry the calf over for you?” asked the woman.
“True! We’ll make him bring the cow for nothing because he took advantage of you,” declared Miss Mason, eagerly.
“That we will!” was Mrs. James’ approval. Then she added as she remembered: “Can you take Sue to his farm before Saturday morning?”
“Sure! And he can collect the pay for me after you try the cow and are satisfied that what I said is so.”
“No, my good woman, we will pay you now for the cow, and you can give us a receipt and state that the cow will be sent to Folsom’s farm for delivery to us at Green Hill Farm. I’ll see to the rest, never worry.”
“Now that’s what I calls right good of you—all. If I only hadn’t sold Susy to Folsom I’d like to have sold her to you folks.”
“You can cheer yourself with the knowledge that we have Susy as well as her mother, and both will have good kind treatment,” was Mrs. James’ reply.
Then the money was paid down and a receipt taken from Miss Jipson who puzzled quite a little over the strange name of “Solomon’s Seal Troop.”
Having purchased the object of their morning’s tour, the amateur farmers drove back along the road they had come. When they came to Folsom’s farm again, Mrs. James had Frances stop the car. She sent Janet to the house to ask the farmer to step out to the automobile. While Janet was absent, Mrs. James asked Miss Mason for her fountain pen and a scrap of paper.
The teacher always carried a small pen and a pad in her hand-bag, so she gave it to Mrs. James and watched while the latter wrote a short agreement to be signed by Folsom. Then Janet came back, followed by the farmer.
Mrs. James saw the delighted smile on the man’s face and wondered at it. His first words showed his mistake, however.
“I see you’ve come back to buy my cow!”
“Your sight is defective, Mr. Folsom,” retorted Mrs. James.
“Oh,—was it the calf you want to pay for?” he spoke rather disappointedly.
“No, we stopped to tell you that we bought Susy’s mother not half an hour ago, and we know what you paid for the calf not twenty-four hours ago. Had we paid your asking price you would have cleared two hundred per cent on the deal. As it is you made one hundred per cent profit. Rather a good transaction for no cost or labor to you.”
“But you thought you had a good calf for a fair price!”
“I am not gainsaying that, but I am here now to say we do not want Susy, at all, unless you agree to bring the cow at the same time, on Saturday, without charge to Miss Jipson or to us.”
Ed Folsom shook his head and smiled. “Nope! I could have sold that calf after you left for more than you offered, but I am too honest for my own good, so I refused because I knew these gals were crazy for Susy.”
“That’s too bad—that you lost a sale. Because we now have a cow, and that is what we came for today. The calf is a toy. We can get along without the toy unless you want to act fairly in this matter,” said Mrs. James.
“You told us that you had to drive to White Plains on Saturday, so it is not far out of your way,” added Miss Mason.
The farmer see-sawed back and forth on his toes for a few moments as if considering the case, then he said: “Well, if you pay spot cash for Susy I’ll bring the old cow along for two dollars.”
“Sorry to have wasted our time and yours. Good day,” was Mrs. James’ answer. “Drive on, Frances.”
Frances was about to start the engine when Folsom jumped up on the running board: “Hold on, won’t you! I never did see any one in such a hurry to lose a bargain!”
“What’s the matter?” asked Mrs. James guilelessly.
“About that calf—do you want her or don’t you?”
“How useless to ask? If we had not wanted her would we have told you to deliver her on Saturday?”
“Well, then, I’ll bring the old cow along, but I want pay for the calf now. You might back out of the sale.”
“I can’t pay all cash now, as we paid for the cow. But I will leave a deposit of five dollars and you can collect the balance when you deliver the calf and the cow!” said Mrs. James.
“Ten or nothing!” demanded Folsom.
“All right. Good day. Drive on, Frances.”
“Give me the five and good riddance!” snarled Folsom as angry as he ever had been over a trade.
“Sign this receipt and I’ll hand you the five dollars,” was Mrs. James’ sweet reply, as she took a new five-dollar bill from her purse.
Mr. Folsom read the slip of paper, signed it, then handed it back so Mrs. James offered him the money. The moment he had the bill in his hand, he jumped from the running board and jeered:
“I hope I never meet such a Shylock again. We folks would have to go out of business if many women were as close as you!”
Mrs. James leaned out of the car and sweetly replied: “That is the greatest compliment ever paid me. I am considered to be such a soft-hearted being that my friends always have to warn me of being duped. Now I can hold up my head with the best of you traders.”
The girls laughed merrily as they started the car on its homeward journey, and Janet said: “Funny how we called Folsom a Shylock, and then he returned the compliment.”
They had not gone more than half the distance to Green Hill Farm before Belle called their attention to a man who was hiving a swarm of honeybees.
“I wonder if bees are hard to keep?” said Belle.
“Not very, and they are the most interesting of all domestic farm-life,” returned Miss Mason.
“How do you know that?” asked Janet, eagerly.
“We watched a bee-farmer in the country, one summer, and the stories he told of his bees, and the intelligence they manifested, won my admiration of them. I’ve always wanted to try a few hives and see if I could make friends with them and raise a bee family.”
“There is something in the scout book about bees,” reminded Natalie.
“Yes, you can win a badge by passing the test. But it is not that, so much, as the fact that you have a fine farm and plenty of room for bees. It is a shame not to have them,” said Miss Mason.
When the car drove in at the side-gate, the girls found the scouts from Solomon’s Seal Camp waiting on the porch for news of the adventure. With them sat Dorothy Ames, Nancy Sherman, and Hester Tompkins. Their interest in the day’s trip proved their interest in the corporation with one cow for an asset.
There was wild rejoicing when it was learned that a fine little cow with the name of Sue, was purchased and would come to Green Hill on Saturday to live. Then they heard about the little calf which Janet claimed for herself. Planning for the comfort of the cow and calf continued until Rachel came out to say: “Stead of doing so much talkin’ why don’ you-all go to the barns and ack on your idees. Dat cow-shed what’s there now ain’t fit fer nuttin!”
Laughing at this practical admonition from Rachel, the troop of girls went to the barn to consult with Sam about making a nice new shed for Corporation Sue.
The next morning the girls from the house visited the scouts at the camp to discuss further the idea of keeping bees. Miss Mason got out the handbook and turned to the page where it speaks of bee-keeping. She read aloud:
“Now, girls,” concluded Miss Mason, “I suggest that Janet have first choice to decide whether she wishes to start a bee colony, or whether she waives her right as the stock-farmer scout and prefers to join us in keeping bees.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of bees, Miss Mason. I’ll have so much to do after Susy comes, with all the rest of my live-stock, that taking care of bees will be out of the question,” said Janet.
“Then we can add another asset to our scout corporation and get some bees to start a colony, eh?” ventured Miss Mason.
“Isn’t it rather late in the season to start bees?” asked Natalie.
“Not too late to secure a hive of some one else’s bees. What difference does it make whether the bees are with us or with some one else?” said Janet.
“I don’t know exactly, but I’ve heard that bees hate to be moved about,” returned Natalie.
Then Mrs. James explained: “Bees are very sensitive to environment. And a careful bee-farmer will not move his hives to any strange locality after the inmates are accustomed to certain familiar surroundings. If he has to do any moving he manages to do it in winter, or when the bees swarm.”
“I’ve seen a colony of bees disintegrate and leave home to become tramp-bees, or join other colonies—although the latter act is not common or popular with bees. They are very conservative and seldom associate with bees of other colonies,” added Miss Mason.
“Then how would it be possible for us to get the bees?” asked Norma.
“We would have to secure a swarm which has not yet been accustomed to an environment, but one which will accept a new home without wandering away looking for the old hive,” said Mrs. James.
“Yes, that is what I was going to suggest—that we find a new swarm, nearby, and bring it to the farm to live,” added Miss Mason.
“Mrs. Tompkins has bees and they just love her flower-garden,” said Norma.
“Maybe Mrs. Tompkins can tell us if she expects a new swarm very shortly. Or she may know of a farmer who has just hived a swarm,” suggested Natalie, eagerly.
“I say, let’s decide where we will stand the bee-hives when we get them,” said Janet, practically.
“We can walk over to the gardens and look for a sunny sheltered spot,” ventured Miss Mason.
“And we can authorize Frances to find out from Mrs. Tompkins whether she has any swarms, or knows of one that can be purchased by us,” added Belle.
So they all started for the gardens to decide upon a suitable place to keep the bee-hives should they be able to buy any. It did not take long to choose the spot along the fence that divided the garden from the pasture lot. There was a row of fruit trees in a line alongside this fence, and they would not only offer the shade from a burning sun in summer, but also provide nectar and pollen in the spring when the blossoms were blowing, and they also afforded resting-places for home-coming laden bees, or for swarms which might wish to locate near the hive.
Being so near the vegetable gardens, Miss Mason suggested that Natalie show them how her gardens were doing. Always glad to display her knowledge and experience in gardening, Natalie led the way.
The first bed they reached held the lettuce plants discarded by Mr. Ames and left for Natalie to transplant. They had flourished in spite of the interference from Janet’s chickens, and now they looked very green and tempting.
“The lettuce is large enough to pull whenever Jimmy says we need any at the house,” remarked Natalie, proudly.
“Oh, hardly! I should say it would need another week’s growth, Natalie, before being worth pulling,” said Mrs. James.
“We—ll, maybe it will take until Sunday, but surely it will be ready then,” was Natalie’s reluctant admission.
The girls praised the lima beans, and the dwarf beans, and the beets, and all the other growing greens, but truth to tell they knew not one vegetable from another until Natalie or Mrs. James pointed them out by name.
Then they came to the potato hills. The curly-topped little plants looked very pretty in their dark green ruffled leaves. Natalie was delighted with them and began describing how the seed of a potato was obtained. In following Natalie’s motions at the hills, Mrs. James saw something on one of the leaves of the plant just beside her. She stooped and plucked off the bug.
“Here’s a potato bug, Natalie. You’ll have to protect your vines from the beetle that is so destructive.”
At that, Natalie stooped too, and examined several leaves, and the rest of the scouts looked eagerly for the beetles. They found many of the pests on the under side of the leaves, busily at work feeding on the tender greens.
“The horrid little things! What can I do to them?” cried Natalie, horrified at seeing so many bugs.
“You must kill them or they’ll eat all the leaves which are the only sources of light and fresh air provided for the tiny tubers already forming under the surface of the ground. These Colorado beetles lay eggs on the underside of the leaves and these soon hatch out additional bugs so that very soon the entire field is infested with them. The time to get rid of them is when the potato plants are still very small, as these are,” explained Mrs. James.
“Dear me, Jimmy, I can’t bear to touch them, so how can I ever kill them all?” Natalie shuddered as she spoke.
“We’ll have to order some Paris Green from Four Corners and prepare a solution to cover the leaves. It can be applied with a squirt-gun, and it is quite simple to do.”
“I’ll go with Frances at once, and bring back the stuff,” was Natalie’s emphatic declaration.
The girls then left the gardens and Frances went to get out the car to drive to Four Corners. Meantime, Janet went to the barn yard with a few of the girls, to have a look at the fowl and pigs. While she was there, Janet took a peep in the nests and found two more eggs.
“Isn’t this great! The hens are laying splendidly now, and I am keeping the house provided with fresh eggs every day,” said she, exultantly.
Then they went to the house, Janet carrying a precious egg in each hand. As she came up to the back stoop she saw Rachel in the kitchen and called to her.
“Look, Rachel! Two more eggs. Isn’t that fine?”
Rachel came out on the stoop and smiled: “It shore am, honey. Putty soon you’ll have two dozen to your credit on my books.”
“Well, I guess I’m ’most through with my trials and tribulations now, but poor Nat’s have begun again,” remarked Janet.
“Oh, shucks! All pertatters has bugs. Dat’s no trouble atall. Nat’lie’ll learn some day dat gardenin’ ain’t all fun,” laughed Rachel, as she took the two eggs.
“Natalie’s going to powder them with Paris Green. Is it good for bugs, Rachel?” asked Norma.
“Yeh, best pizen I know of but I done tol Natalie dat it ain’t no good to use at evenin’ or late afternoon. It’s got to be squirted over the leaves when dey is fresh and dewy. Den the powder cakes on and smudders all the eggs and hatchin’ bugs. And it keeps the big fellers f’om flyin’ and gettin’ any more to eat. Dey jus’ has to die.”
Sam come up to the stoop at this moment and added his wisdom to that already expressed by his aunt. “I usta fix up tomater cans last summer on a farm, and we filled ’em half full of kerosene. Den wid little sticks to knock the bugs offen the plants we got dem inside the cans. The ile did the rest for us.”
“Sam, that’s a good idea! If you could fix up some cans for us now, we’d go to work and help drown the bugs,” said Janet.
“It won’t take a minute to rig up the cans,” said Sam.
So he went to the dump-heap back of the woodshed and picked out a number of old cans. He nailed them to long flat sticks and then brought them back to the house to give to the girls who had offered their services to save Natalie’s potatoes.
They had equipped themselves with sticks to use as removers of the beetles, and when they were ready to start for the garden, Janet said: “But where is the kerosene oil, Sam?”
Sam looked up at his aunt and said: “Where is the ile?”
“I ain’t got no ile, son. I doesn’t use ile for ennyt’ng nohow. You’se will have to get some at Fo’h Cornehs.”
But that would take as long to get back to the house as the powder was taking, so the girls placed their novel beetle removers under the steps of the stoop to use at some future time.
It was almost supper time when Natalie returned with the Paris Green and instructions from Mr. Tompkins of how to use it. She also had procured a sprayer to use when the Paris Green was prepared for use.
Before retiring that night Natalie warned Rachel that she was not to allow her to oversleep in the morning. “I want to get up at dawn, Rachie, because the bugs will eat more poison in the early morning than later in the day. And I must clean off my darling little potato vines, you see.”
“Yeh, I see, honey I’ll git up and he’p you some,” promised Rachel as she went upstairs.
Janet was telling about the eggs her hens were now laying, so Rachel chuckled to herself as she left Natalie. When the latter went back to join her friends, Mrs. James was explaining why hens seldom laid as many eggs in rainy weather. She said it was accounted for by some scientists because the earth was damp and the hens could not scratch readily in it.
“That’s why I scattered broken clam-shells in the yard to make the scratching better,” said Janet.
They laughed at this remark, and Mrs. James led the way upstairs to bed. The following morning Natalie was called an hour before breakfast. She hurriedly donned her garden overalls and ran down to the cellar for the Paris Green. Unfortunately, Rachel found her bread dough risen and running over the sides of the pan, so that she had to knead it into the pans before doing anything else.
By the time Natalie had the Paris Green mixed and ready to apply to the vines, Janet and Norma came downstairs to help her. They carried the bucket of poison to the garden and Natalie filled the gun. Then, while one of the girls turned the leaves over, Natalie squirted them thickly with the preparation. The other girl carried the pail of poison as they went from plant to plant.
“This isn’t such hard work, is it?” commented Natalie.
“No, not hard but not very exciting, either,” laughed Norma, who sneezed every time any of the mixture reached her nose.
“We ought to finish the whole potato section before Rach calls us to breakfast,” added Janet.
And so they did. When the work was completed and they stood looking over the hills where tiny green leaves had so recently shown, they now saw the crinkly-edged vines looking like dull blanketed things, they were so heavily laden with Paris Green.
Natalie turned about, gazing at the other vegetables, and Janet laughingly remarked: “Are you looking for ‘more world’s to conquer?’”
“I’m looking at those corn hills where some of the bugs alighted when they got away from us,” said she.
“Well, do you want to dose them, too?” asked Norma.
“We may as well. Then they won’t go on raising families,” replied Natalie. So Paris Green was liberally shot all over the plants wherever a bug was found. Then the girls went back to the house.
“We’ve still got a little poison left, Nat,” said Janet.
“Oh, I think I’ll use it my heliotrope and early asters. I noticed yesterday that they were covered with lice,” remarked Norma.
“All right. You show me where to shoot and we’ll cover the pests with the poison,” offered Natalie.
So Norma held the plants steady while Paris Green was literally piled on top of the crowns and over all the leaves. Then the preparation gave out and the girls had to desist from further work.
Directly after breakfast, Janet was seen coming from the barn yard and with an egg in each hand. She seemed perplexed and when she reached the kitchen stoop she saw the girls watching her.
“This is the queerest thing, yet,” said she.
“What is?” asked several of the girls.
“Why, just before going in to breakfast I ran over to the chicken-coop to see if the hens had laid any eggs and there wasn’t a thing to be seen. They were all out in the yard eating corn. Then after breakfast I had to go back to feed the setting-hen and there I found an egg in each nest. And they are not warm.”
“I don’t think that is strange,” answered Belle. “It doesn’t take a hen very long to lay an egg, you know.”
“No, that is true,” admitted Janet, twisting herself in such a manner that the girls laughed and wondered what she meant.
The girls then went to the side-porch to plan for Sue, but Janet could not sit still. She squirmed and hunched her shoulders in such a way that Natalie finally noticed it and cried:
“Good gracious, Janet! Why don’t you sit still?”
“Yes, Jan, what ails you? Are you nervous?” asked Norma.
“I don’t know what it is, girls, but I have never been in such misery. It must be prickly heat, I guess,” said Janet.
“Go upstairs and use talcum powder profusely,” suggested Belle, “before we start for Four Corners to see about the bees.”
Janet followed this advice and was comfortable for a short time after she rejoined the girls, but then the irritation of the skin began again and she wriggled worse than ever. All the way to Mrs. Tompkins’ house Janet said nothing but did a lot of acting.
Mrs. Tompkins showed her visitors her bee hives and gave them a great deal of useful information about the keeping of bees, then she said: “I’ve been looking for one of my hives to have a swarm every warm day we’ve had, lately, but they still keep on scolding and hanging around, so I imagine they are waiting for a sultry day which will foretell a good electrical storm. You know, bees like to swarm just before a thunder shower?”
The girls did not know this and were curious to know why it was, and Mrs. Tompkins replied that she figured it out her own way, but she had never heard the scientific reason for it.
“I watch the queen-bee and see how clever she is in her plans and movements, then I watch her train the tiny princess bees until they are large enough to start housekeeping for themselves, then I watch and see the queen-bee make her selections from all the workers and drones in the family, and she inspires them with a keen desire to move out of the old hive and find a new home. As the queen bee is the monarch in the hive, they follow and do exactly as she orders them to. She is constantly surrounded by loving guardians and it is impossible for her to ever fly away alone, or have any privacy.
“But she is a wise bee and knows that her workers hate a thunderstorm. A bee seldom flies far from home when rain or an electrical storm is threatened. So the queen bides her time, and when she can foretell a thunder storm hovering near, she starts the swarm going.
“First she manages to escape from her guardians and get out on the running-board of the hive, but her followers are close upon her heels. When she flies up to find a resting place they are close behind. Sometimes she manages to get some distance from the hive before she is overwhelmed with pursuers and brought to a full stop on a tree, or bush, or fence. It generally happens to be on the lower limb of a tree, and it happens more often that the swarm settles near the old hive.
“Once the queen settles on a resting-place all the other bees gather closely around her to prevent her escaping again. They fear she wants to run away from home, so they close in until the poor thing almost smothers. The bees will clasp their antennae through the hooked back-leg of the bee nearest them, and thus form a chain that keeps growing and circling about the cluster around the queen. Sometimes this swarm is so heavy that it falls from sheer weight. But generally the bees hanging on to the bough increase in numbers in order to hold safely aloft the hanging swarm.
“Once the swarm is large enough, it is best for the bee-farmer to gather it into a hive. This is when he beats a drum or a tin pan to imitate thunder. That always frightens the bees and the queen readily leads them into a new home. If a real thunderstorm overtakes the swarm and rain falls heavily before the farmer has gathered the bees into a shelter, he has lost them. For they will scatter and the queen will fly away never to return to the old home.
“Or she may try to re-enter her own old hive and be stung to death by the young queen and her subjects who are now ruling the place. In cases where a princess-queen leaves home to start a swarm, the swarm is never as large or difficult to manage, as the young queen seldom has as many devoted subjects to follow her as an old queen has.”
“Oh, how interesting, Mrs. Tompkins,” exclaimed Janet.
“Yes, we will be glad to have some bees and watch them work,” added Norma.
“If my bees swarm within the next few days I shall be glad to sell it to you. I’ll send word and you can come and get it,” said Mrs. Tompkins, generously.
“How fine! But how do we carry a swarm home?” asked Natalie.
“In your farmer’s hat!” retorted Janet, laughingly.
“Oh, you won’t have to worry over that. I’ll hive the swarm and send the hive right to the farm,” replied Mrs. Tompkins. “But you must be careful to locate them pleasantly, or they may wander off. Bees like plenty of flowers nearby, and the freedom of the fields, yet they want to hear human voices and be able to see their master going about, even if they seldom come in contact with him. They seem to feel secure and safe when living in the shadow of a home.”
“I wish we could drive Mrs. Tompkins home and let her choose a site for our bee-hives,” ventured Natalie.
“Could you come with us, Mrs. Tompkins?” asked Mrs. James.
“I can manage to get away from home for an hour, but no longer, girls. If Frances can bring me back again, I’ll go with you,” replied the obliging lady.
All the way back to Green Hill, Janet squirmed and scratched her neck and bare arms until the skin was raw. Mrs. Tompkins asked Mrs. James about it
“Do you s’pose Janet got poison ivy on her and the rash is just showing?” asked she.
“I hadn’t thought of poison ivy,” returned Mrs. James, “but it is something. And the poor child is wretched. What can be done for her?”
“Whatever it is, a little baking soda in water will cool her burning skin and leave her comfortable for a time. But she will have to keep on using it for any continued ease.”
Arrived at the house, Rachel was told to give Janet the baking soda, and then Janet went upstairs to dab herself with the wash while Mrs. Tompkins led all the other girls about the gardens seeking the place for the bees to live. The place the girls had selected proved to be the best and most practical. When they were coming back from the field-fence, Janet met them and went with them while Natalie’s vegetables were visited.
The garden scout had been telling Mrs. Tompkins how hard she had worked that morning to kill the potato bugs, and when that lady saw the plants she gasped, “Why Natalie, what did you do?”
“They look queer, don’t they? They were not so when I left them this morning.”
Mrs. Tompkins stooped to examine a plant and looked up inquiringly at Mrs. James, and asked: “How much Paris Green did she mix?”
Natalie answered. “Why, I mixed the lot of it. I was told how much to use for the space I had to cover, but I thought an extra quantity would surely kill them off quicker, so I used three times the amount directed.”
“My dear child! I fear you have killed the plants as well as your bugs,” sighed Mrs. Tompkins, sympathetically.
“Dear me, I hope I haven’t killed my heliotrope and asters, too!” exclaimed Norma, running away to examine her flowers.
Natalie was stunned at the discovery that her precious potato plants had been destroyed by her own carelessness. Norma found the asters too sturdy to dry up under the deluge she had given them, but the heliotrope was as dry as paper.
Both girls were inconsolable, until Mrs. Tompkins promised Norma new flowers to plant, and Natalie was promised as many healthy potato plants as had been killed.
“That’s awfully good of you, Mrs. Tompkins, but those potatoes won’t be my very own darlings!” wailed Natalie.
“Well, you’ve done a good deed, child, because no bug will dare go near that place again this year,” said Mrs. Tompkins, trying not to laugh at Natalie’s sorrow which was very real to the girl.
“I can’t even feed them to my pigs, and I was looking forward to the time when we could dig the potatoes for the pigs, right from the garden,” murmured Janet, understanding Natalie’s grief.
“I will take a look at your wonderful little pigs, Janet, and then I must hurry home,” remarked Mrs. Tompkins, hoping to change Natalie’s thoughts to something else.
They all stood near the pig pen but Janet warned them not to lean on it as it might fall over. Then Mrs. Tompkins spoke: “The pigs are underfed, Janet, for their age. What do you feed ’em?”
Janet told of all the feed she gave them but Mrs. Tompkins replied: “You do not give them sufficient milk. Little pigs must have more milk than that. Si feeds our pigs the skim-milk which they like as much as other milk.”
“That’s what I can do when the cow gets here, but milk costs too much, now, to feed it to the pigs.” So saying Janet led the way over to the chicken-house.
Since walking to the barn yard the itching had started to annoy her again, so that when they came to the hen-house she was twisting and wriggling as before. The chickens were out in the yard scratching for food, while the cock stood upon a stump and showed off his plumes in the sunlight. Janet felt a just pride in their looks.
“I’m getting from four to six eggs every day, now,” said she to the visitor. “I shouldn’t wonder but there will be two or three in the nests, now.” So saying she ran in and found three nice brown eggs.
“There you are! I told you so.” And she displayed them to the lady with all the vanity of a successful chicken farmer.
“Did you just get them out of the nests?” asked Mrs. Tompkins. Janet nodded her head smilingly.
“Have you any other hens besides those old ones?” added the visitor.
“No, only a setting hen. Want to see her? Come right in and tell me what you think of her.”
Mrs. Tompkins followed Janet through the door but when she saw the setting-hen trying to peck herself continually with her bill, and saw that the feathers were all gone from her neck, then she saw another hen on a roost, constantly scratching and picking under its feathers, a light dawned upon her.
The lady went over to the roosts and looked carefully at them, then she examined the boards of the sides and roof of the house, then she looked at the nests. Finally she gathered her dress closely about her and stepped forth.
“The place is alive with ’em!” declared she, once outdoors.
“Alive with what?” chorused the waiting hostesses.
“Why, with chicken-lice. Those hens won’t lay while they are being eaten up with the pests.”
“Chicken-lice! Horrors, what are they like?” came from the girls, but Mrs. James stood dumbfounded as she began to understand. Then she exclaimed:
“Janet, it isn’t poison ivy that’s bothering you but the chicken-pest!”
It was fully five minutes before the excitement quieted down again, and Janet was told how easy a matter it was to rid oneself of the nuisance. But Janet argued over Mrs. Tompkins’ statement that chickens would not lay if they were too badly troubled with the lice. She held up the eggs as evidence of what she said.
Then Mrs. Tompkins said sarcastically: “That Ames man had no right to take you innocent girls in like he did. He must have known that ancient old bird of his was no kind of a rooster to sell. And them hens—well I know them to be six years old. They can’t lay eggs any more, they’re too old.”
“Then I’ve got freak hens, for they lay every day!” persisted Janet.
Mrs. Tompkins was driven to speak outright now, so she said: “Are you sure the eggs do not come from the house?”
This was a poser that no one could answer, so Janet was quiet. But Mrs. James said: “What can we do to rid the chickens of the lice?”
“Well, first of all keep them out in the yard while the house, inside and out, is being white-washed with good slacked lime. Then take each chicken and give it an alcohol bath, being careful not to get it in the eyes, or mouth, or ears.”
After a moment’s pause she added: “If they was my chickens I’d take them all back to Ames and make him exchange ’em. He won’t dare let this fake deal get out at Four Corners.”
Natalie and Janet had not said a word about the hens until Mrs. Tompkins spoke about the “fake deal” but Janet knew it was her duty to explain.
“Natalie and I picked out the rooster because he has such lovely feathers, and we thought the big hens would lay the biggest eggs, so we selected them for the same price.”
“Mr. Ames begged us to take Rhode Island Reds and another rooster, but we wouldn’t,” added Natalie.
“He said the hens were old and wouldn’t give satisfaction, but we thought he said that so we wouldn’t rob him of his finest big hens,” explained Janet
As the truth about the bargain began to be understood, Mrs. Tompkins and Mrs. James laughed heartily. But Janet whispered to Natalie: “I wonder if he will exchange them now?”
“We’ll tell him right out that we need hens that will lay,” said Natalie.
By this time they had reached the stoop of the house, and Janet glanced down at the three brown eggs in her hands and then looked up at Rachel who stood perplexed at the few words she had just overheard.
Mrs. James looked straight at her and said: “Rachel, how many eggs has Janet sold you now?”
“About two dozen, Mis James, countin’ dese free.”
“Well, I’m wondering who is standing the expense, you or me, or the house?”
“Why?” asked Janet, amazed at such a strange question.
Rachel gasped when she realized that she might have to pay Janet for the eggs she bought from her and also pay the house for the eggs she stole for the nests. But Sam joined them and said:
“Aunt Rachel tole me to put an egg or two in the nestes every day, but I liked to see Mis Janet smile so I put in more and more. Dat’s how she got so many from the pantry box.”
Such a roar greeted this confession that Rachel went in and slammed the kitchen door, and Janet turned to throw the eggs at Sam, but he had bolted.
“Never mind that, now, Janet, but come with me and let me help you get rid of the chicken-lice,” said motherly Mrs. Tompkins. So Janet was comforted in more ways than one before Mrs. Tompkins went home.