was Uncle Benny who nailed up the loose door-step which the pig had
rooted away from its place, causing Lucy Spangler to fall on the edge of
a bucket and break her nose. Lucy came out to thank him for doing the
thing so nicely; for ever since the accident to her nose, she had been
very skittish about putting her foot on the step.

"Ah, Lucy," said Uncle Benny, "I wish I could mend your nose as easily."

"Indeed I wish so too," replied Lucy.

Inside of the house were numerous things that wanted looking after in
the same way. There was not a bolt or a latch that would work as it
ought to. All the closet locks were out of order, while one half the
doors refused to shut. In fact there were twenty little provocations of
this kind that were perpetual annoyances to the women. Uncle Benny went
to work and removed them all; there was no odd job that he was not able
to go through with. Indeed, it was the luckiest day in the history of
that farm when he came to live upon it, for it did seem that, if the
farm were ever to be got to rights, he was the very man to do it. Now,
it was very curious, but no one told Uncle Benny to do these things. But
as soon as he had anchored himself at Mr. Spangler's he saw how much the
old concern was out of gear, and, providing himself with tools, he
undertook, as one of his greatest pleasures, to repair these
long-standing damages, not because he expected to be paid for it, but
from his own natural anxiety to have things look as they ought.

The boys watched the old man's operations with great interest, for both
Joe and Tony were ambitious of knowing how to handle tools. One day he
took hold of the coffee-mill, which some clumsy fellow had only half
nailed up in the kitchen, so that, whenever the coffee was ground,
whoever turned the crank was sure to bruise his knuckles against the
wall. Mrs. Spangler and her daughters of course did all the grinding,
and complained bitterly of the way the mill was fixed. Besides, it had
become shockingly dull, so that it only cracked the grains, and thus
gave them a miserably weak decoction for breakfast. Now, Uncle Benny had
been used to strong coffee, and couldn't stand what Mrs. Spangler gave
him. So he unshipped the mill, took it to pieces, with a small file
sharpened up the grinders, which by long use had become dull, oiled its
joints, and screwed it up in a new place, where it was impossible for
the knuckles to be bruised. It then worked so beautifully, t