title="[Pg 72]"/>called the main building. Don't you remember in Mr. Rand's plan how this room projects, or comes out, beyond the rest?"

"Oh, yes, papa; I understand now, and right here where I stand, the piazza will be. Wont it be very pretty?"

"I think so; but we must thank mamma for the plan. It was her taste suggested it to the architect."

"Mr. Taylor says mamma is the most wonderful woman he ever saw," replied the boy earnestly.

"Mr. Taylor is a wise man," said papa. "I entirely agree with him."

"Oh, see how hard the oxen are pulling! Wont that wood break their necks?"

"That is a yoke, and they are used to it. They are dragging stones for the cellar."

"Why don't they put the stones in a cart, papa?"

"Because, though it would be rather easier for the oxen to draw them, it would be harder for the men to load and unload."

"Are stones very heavy indeed?"

"You can try to lift one."

"I can't move it one mite, papa. I don't see what good they will do in the cellar."

"No, I suppose not; but you will learn."

"Haw, Bright! Come up, Buck!" shouted Tom.

Both the oxen pulled with all their strength; but the ground was soft and rising. Bertie could not see that the drag moved an inch.

Tom lashed and lashed the patient creatures, shouting with all his might. When he found this did no good he began to swear.

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Bertie, shrinking behind his father.

"Stop!" said Mr. Curtis, in a firm, clear voice. "You must throw off part of your load; and I want to say one thing now. I'll do all the swearing that's done on the place."

Tom's face grew very red; but he did not speak. For one instant he stood, and looked into his master's eye. He knew then, as well as he did a year afterward, that the Squire meant exactly what he said.

Two large stones were thrown off; Buck and Bright pulled again, and soon the heap on the drag was lying by the side of the other stones.

Before the oxen went away for another load, Bertie had found out that the names of the other pair were Star and Spot, from some white marks on their forehead. He had learned, too, why drags were better than carts to draw large stones with.

CHAPTER VII.

THE BOY TEACHER.