CHAPTER VIII.

BOY CARPENTER.

OM is coming!" was the shout Mrs. Garfield heard, as she caught sight of James bounding across the garden. "Tom is coming!" louder yet. One would have

thought the boy had suddenly lost his reason, judging by his antics.

Sure enough! Looking from the cabin door she saw Thomas approaching, and James had already reached him in his pleasurable excitement. If James was glad to get hold of Thomas' hand, Thomas was equally rejoiced to get hold of James. The greeting was mutual and hearty. The big brother and the little brother made for the house, hand in hand, their tongues running glibly all the while.

"Are we going to have a frame-house now?" asked James, almost the first thing.

"Yes, we'll have a frame-house now, and let the hens keep house in the cabin," replied Thomas.

"It's just about good enough for them," remarked James in response. "It will make a good hen-house."

"Rather better accommodations than they have had," Thomas added; "and will compare well with our quarters when the house is done."

By this time mother and son stood face to face, James shouting:

"Going to have the frame-house now, mother!"

Mrs. Garfield found that she was a good deal like James, and when she saw that her Thomas was certainly coming, she forgot everything else, and hastened to meet him,-not as wildly as James, but very much as all fond mothers will do when they have not seen their good sons for seven months. She went across the house-lot at double-quick, and soon had hold of the big boy as firmly as he had hold of her. It was a glad meeting. Mothers and sons who dwell in palaces scarcely know what a luxury it was. Why, it more than paid for the long separation. The meeting paid principal and interest in full. The family were united again,-girls, boys, and mother, -one girl rather big now, twenty-three years old; and Thomas almost twenty-two, just the age of his father when the latter was married. Happy family!

They were hardly seated in the cabin, when Thomas flung a handful of gold into his mother's lap, saying:

"Now you can have a frame-house;" and the noble. young man seemed to be perfectly satisfied, now that he was able to give his mother a better home. "We'll go about it at once."

"My! what a lot!" was James' exclamation when he saw the shining gold; and he proceeded to examine the treasure in his mother's lap.

"How much is there, Tom?" he asked. "Seventy-five dollars, just."

"And you earned it all?"

"Every cent of it."

James read aloud the inscriptions on the new, bright coin, while he handled it in amazement that his own brother could make such a "pile." Things had not been conducted on a gold basis in that cabin, so that it was a new spectacle that suddenly broke upon James' delighted vision. He had not seen gold coin before, nor had he dreamed that such an article could come out of the Michigan woods. It is not strange, therefore, that the backwoods boy was considerably elated over the sight. What a mint was to him later, that seventy-five dollars in gold was to him then.

"Why don't you say something, mother?" exclaimed James, no doubt expecting that his mother would be as gushing as himself over the gold. The fact was, she could not have said anything if she had tried. What mother could in the circumstances? That great boy, as old as his father was when she became his bride, coming home with such proof of his filial love! Thinking of his mother more than he did of himself! Happy only in helping her! Who wonders that she sat mute. as a marble statue? There was no language for such an occasion. All the Noah Websters in the world could not provide words for such a moment. A mother's heart, at such a time, defies expression. At least it was so with mother Garfield's heart. It could have taken that strapping son to itself, and folded him like a baby again, and covered him over with kisses, which would have been only a figure of speech, but language was out of the question. James saw the point as soon as her tears dropped upon the gold coin. He could not exactly understand it, though, for he felt like hurrahing instead of crying, and he knew that his

mother was glad that she could have a frame-house, for he had often heard her express a wish of that kind. So he could not quite understand it. Readers! it was because he was like all the rest of the boys and girlsthey do not understand the mystery of a mother's love.

The excitement of the hour passed, however, and the equilibrium of feeling and daily duties was re stored.

"I'm off again, mother, as soon as I get you into the new house," said Thomas. "There's plenty of work in Michigan, and I must be doing it."

"Well, you must manage it to suit yourself. I suppose that Mr. Treat can be had at any time to put the house up." Mr. Treat was the carpenter.

"I will find out. I can work with him, and we'll make a quick job of it."

"I'll work, too," said James. "I can carry boards, drive nails, and do other things."

"You can draw the sand, too, Jimmy," replied Thomas.

"Sand! What do you do with sand?" exclaimed James, forgetting that mortar was necessary. It was excusable, however, since he was familiar only with mud, that made the log-house tight.

"To make mortar with, of course; we must have mortar for plastering," Thomas answered. "I can get lime, brick, nails, and windows at Cleveland."

"And you'll take me along with you, I s'pose,” suggested James.

"Yes; I can chuck you in most anywhere. Per haps I shall need your help."

James had not been to Cleveland, at that time. It was but a small place, of about a thousand inhabitants, though growing rapidly.

"How long will you be gone to Cleveland?" inquired James.

"One day only; can't spare any more time. A long day, perhaps."

"When shall you go?"

"Just as soon as I have engaged Mr. Treat."

Mr. Treat was seen and engaged at once, and Thomas and James made the trip to Cleveland for windows, nails, etc. Bricks were obtained subsequently, without going to Cleveland.

A few days only elapsed before the carpenter and Thomas were at work on the new house. James, too, was not a mere spectator. He was far more interested in the erection of the house than he would have been in a circus. It was an era in his life. All the spare moments he could snatch from the farm-work and care of the stock he devoted to the new house. He had drawn the sand before the carpenter began to frame the building.

"Here, Jimmy, I see you want to help," said Mr. Treat. "Just take this chisel and mallet, and put this mortise through as you have seen me do the others. I guess you can do it."

"Yes, I can do that," James answered, elated with the idea of being able to render assistance; and with mallet and chisel the mortise was hurried through.

"Give us another," exclaimed James, proud of his achievement.