" And Roger's look passed
furtively along the faces in the car. "We don't want to forget," he warned,
"that this is still New England. Every new idea we have we want to go easy
with, snake it in."
"I've got an awful lot of 'em," the boy muttered hungrily.
* * * * *
At the farm, the next morning at daybreak, Roger was awakened by the sound
of George's voice. It was just beneath his window:
"But cattle are only part of it, Dave," the boy declared, in earnest tones,
"just part of what we can have up here. Think what we've got--over three
hundred acres! And we want to make every acre count! We want to get in a
whole lot more of hogs--Belted Hampshires, if we can afford 'em--and a
couple of hundred hens. White Leghorns ought to fill the bill. Of course
that's just a starter. I've got a scheme for some incubators--electric--run
by the dynamo which we'll put in down by the dam. And we can do wonders
with bees, too, Dave--I've got a book on 'em I'd like you to read. And
besides, there's big money in squab these days. Rich women in New York
hotels eat thousands of 'em every night. And ducks, of course, and turkeys.
I'd like a white gobbler right at the start, if we knew where we could get
one cheap." The voice broke off and there was a pause. "We can do an awful
lot with this place."
Then Dave's deep drawl:
"That's so, George--yes, I guess that's so. Only we don't want to fool
ourselves.
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