72 THE FAT OF THE LAND 
to her esthetic taste. This farm land must be 
useful to the sacrifice of everything else. A 
winding brook would be all right on the home 
lot, if it could be found, but not on the farm. A 
straight ditch for drainage was all that I would 
permit, and I begrudged even that. No waste 
land in the cultivated fields, was my motto. I 
had threshed this out with Polly and she had 
yielded, after stipulating that I must keep my 
hands off the home forty. 
Over in the woods I found two men at work 
splitting fence posts. They seemed expert, and 
I asked them how many they could make in a 
day. 
«From 90 to 125, according to the timber. 
But we must work hard to make good wages.” 
«That applies to other things besides post- 
splitting, doesn’t it?” 
Closer inspection of the wood lot gratified me 
exceedingly. Little had been done for it except 
by Nature, but she had worked with so prodigal 
a hand that it showed all kinds of possibilities, 
both for beauty and for utility. Before leaving 
the place, I had a little talk with Nelson. 
«Everything is going on nicely,” he said. “I 
have ten carpenters, and they are a busy lot. If 
I can only hold them on to the job, things will 
go well.” 
« What’s the matter? Can’t you hold them?” 
«‘T hope so, but there is a hoisters’ strike on 
in the city, and the carpenters threaten to go 
