git around to fixin' the pump staff, and he kin
make that in ten minutes. I believe he's got a stick for't out in the
workshop now, he won't be driv'."

"Janice wasted her good money, then," said Marty, with fine disgust.
"All else it needs is a pump staff, and he kin make that in ten minutes.
I believe he's got a stick for't out in the workshop--had it there for
months."

"Now, you git erlong with that pail, Marty," commanded his mother, "and
don't stand there a-criticisin' of your elders."

Janice hid behind the great lilac bush until Marty had gone grumblingly
down the hill. Then she heard some loud language from the barnyard and
knew that her uncle had come in from the fields. After a little
hesitation she made straight for the barn.

"Uncle Jason! won't you please mend the pump? Mr. Pringle has cut you a
good pump leather."

"Goodness me, Janice! I'm druv to death. All this young corn to
cultivate, an' not a soul to help me. Other boys like Marty air some
good; but I can't trust him in the field with a hoss."

"But you don't work in the field all day long, Uncle," pleaded Janice.

"Seems to me I don't have a minute to call my own," declared the farmer.
To hear him talk one would think he was the busiest man in Poketown!

"I expect you are pretty busy," agreed the girl, nodding; "but I can
tell you how to find time to mend that pump."

"How's that?" he asked, curiously.

"Get up when I do. We can mend it before the others come down. Will you
do it to-morrow morning, Uncle?"

"Wa-al! I dunno----"

"Say you will, Uncle Jason!" cried Janice. "We'll surprise 'em--Aunty
and Marty. They needn't never know till it's done."

"I got ter find a new pump shaft----"

"Marty says you've got one put away in the workshop."

"Why--er--so I have, come to think on't."

"Then it won't take long. Let's do it, Uncle--that's a dear!"

The man looked around dumbly; he hunted in his rather slow mind for some
excuse--some reason for withdrawing from the venture that Janice
proposed.

"I--I dunno as I would wake up----"

"I'll wake you. I'll come to your door and scratch on the panel like a
mouse gnawing. Aunt 'Mira will never hear."

"No. She sleeps like the dead," admitted Uncle Jason. "Only the dead
don't snore."

"Will you do it?"

"Oh, well! I'll see how I feel in the morning," half promised Uncle
Jason, and with this Janice had to be content. She did not, however,
lose heart. She was determined to stir the