It does workmen good to hear a genuine, hearty laugh from their master.  Even the stone-masons, who were straining every nerve to lift a large stone into its place, looked up with a smile, as Mr. Curtis’ “ha! ha! ha!” echoed from the hill.

The gentleman walked along the edge of the bank leading Winnie, while Bertie, more cautious, kept at a respectful distance from the precipice.  They came at last to the bulkhead where the road had been made to the cellar, and the gentleman, after a glance at Winnie’s thin slippers laced so nicely over the ankles, lifted the child again and walked down where the masons were at work.

“May I go too, papa?” asked Bertie.

“Certainly.  Come, and I’ll ask the workmen to show you how to make a stone wall.”

“And will you please tell me what a bulkhead is?”

“Do you remember the door where Mr. Taylor rolled down a barrel of ice into his cellar this morning?”

“Yes, sir.  I didn’t know there was any door there.  Winnie and I used to sit on those boards and eat our lunch.”

“Well, that is called a bulkhead.  I don’t know why that name should be used, for the real meaning of the word is a partition in a ship which makes separate apartments.  Perhaps it is so called, because articles of considerable bulk are put down through it, and stored in the cellar.  When the stonelayer comes to that part of the cellar, you will see how he builds up a place each side of that road; and then the carpenter will make doors to fit down upon it.  When we want to put coal or wood, or anything heavy into the house, instead of carrying them through the carpeted halls and down the nice stairs, we only have to open the trap-doors and carry them down the steps, or put on a plank board and roll them down, as farmer Taylor does.”

Bertie now was standing near the stone-masons and watched closely every movement.  One man was preparing a place for a large stone, while the other was chipping off the front edge with a sharp instrument called a cold chisel.

When he thought it smooth enough they took hold together and tipped it over and over; sometimes using their hands, or iron bars, and sometimes pieces of strong wood to put it into place, until at last they had it fitted into the wall.

Bertie noticed that they chinked or filled in all the little holes with the small stones so as to make the wall as compact as possible.  His father told him that after the whole was done, they would fill every hole with cement, which, after a few days, would become so very hard that not even the tiniest mouse could creep in.  This, the mason informed him, was called “pointing the cellar wall.”

While Bertie stood down in the cellar talking with his father and the men, he happened to remember his promise to mamma, to bring Winnie home in time for her morning nap.

“O, papa!” he exclaimed.  “Will you please look at your watch, and tell me what time it is?  I’m afraid it’s too late for me to go home.”

“It’s a quarter past ten,” answered papa.

“I’ll go then, as quick as I can, and come back this afternoon; mamma is going to read me a story when Winnie is asleep.”

Papa carried the little girl and put her in the carriage.  Bertie took up the reins and drove off with a good-by bow, which the gentleman returned with a loving smile.

Just as he reached the gate he overtook Tom, who had a boy seated on his empty drag.

“Is that your Jerry, that you told me about?” Bertie asked, stopping his donkey.

“Yes, it’s my Jerry.”

“Will he be over there this afternoon?” pointing to Woodlawn.

“I think it’s likely.”

“I’m going to be there then.  Papa is going to show me what a trench is; and if your boy would like it, I’ll give him a ride in my donkey carriage.”

Jerry’s face fairly shone with delight.  His father had told him about Whitefoot; and he hoped he should see the funny looking creature; but to take a ride in the little carriage, was more than he had ever dreamed of.

“Thank you, Master Bertie.  I expect Jerry would be tickled enough; but ’tisn’t just the thing for you to be carrying the likes of him.”

“You’ve carried me on your drag,” Herbert answered, laughing.  “Mamma says when anybody does us a kindness, we ought to try and return it.  I’ll be there right after dinner.”

When they drove up to the farm, mamma was looking from the window watching for them.  She told Bertie to come up to her with his sister, for Nancy was busy on the back porch washing out some clothes for her little charge.

Winnie’s lunch of bread and milk was all ready for her; but she was so sleepy she could scarcely keep awake to eat it; and when mamma had laid her on her crib, she was asleep in a minute.

Bertie ran out to the barn to put his donkey up, and then listened to mamma’s story for the rest of the forenoon.