Uncle Gerald promised to give me some boards
for my chicken-coops; perhaps he would add a few more if he knew what
we wanted them for. Let's go over and see if he is at home now,"
"All right," answered Rob, preparing to start.
Jack and Rob might almost always be found together. They were of about
the same age,--Jack being fourteen on his last birthday, the 22d of
January, and Rob on the 30th of the following March. They lived within
a stone's-throw of each other, and had been friends from the time they
were little chaps.
Mr. Gerald Sheridan was a merchant who did business in New York, but he
was now taking a few days' vacation, to look a little after the work
upon his farm, which was in charge of a hired man. His house, situated
a short distance down the road, was large and spacious. The boys
walked briskly toward it, planning as they went.
At Uncle Gerald's the latch string was always out--that is, if the door
was not standing hospitably open, as was usually the case in pleasant
spring or summer weather; one had only to turn the knob and walk in.
Just as they were about to enter the square, home-like hall, lined with
old-fashioned settles and adorned with fowling-pieces, fishing-rods,
tennis rackets, and the like, Jack's cousin, eleven-year-old Leo, came
out of an adjoining room and said;
"Hello! You want to see father? Well, he's over yonder"--pointing to
a sunny patch of ground toward the south,--"showing Michael how he
wants the vegetable garden planted.
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