s the politest young un I ever see," was Tom's answer.

Bertie, meanwhile, drove through the field,--there was quite a good road
now,--and on by the lake to Woodlawn. His father was standing near a
company of men who were digging with spades, throwing the dirt out
behind them.

Bertie jumped from his wagon and threw the reins upon Whitefoot's back,
and instantly the tame creature began to taste the grass.

"I'm going to stay here till dinner, papa; what shall I do with my
donkey?"

"Take off his harness, and let him feed; I don't think he'll stray away.
At any rate you can try him. You must begin to teach him to come to you
when you call."

The little fellow drove the wagon under the shade of a tree; and very
soon Whitefoot, finding himself at liberty, walked slowly off toward
the lake, nibbling grass as he went.

"Now," said papa, "you may walk about wherever you please. You are old
enough to keep out of danger. When the men come with the oxen you will
see them unload."

"What are all those men doing, papa?"

"They are Irishmen whom I hire by the day to dig the cellar to our new
house. Do you see these sticks driven into the ground?"

"Yes, papa, and the string tied to them. What is it for?"

"It is to mark out exactly the line where the cellar is to be. See, this
is the front of the house; and I have measured twenty feet. Your mother
wishes the room to be eighteen feet wide; and it is necessary to allow
one foot each side for the thickness of the walls, the plastering, etc."

"But, papa, here is another stick only a little way off. Wont mamma's
room be larger than this?"

"Yes, it extends back into what is 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 th