One Wednesday afternoon, they were there playing very pleasantly with the sand. They had been building a famous city, and, after amusing themselves with it some time, they had knocked down the houses, and trampled the sand all about again. James then said he meant to go to the barn and get his horse-cart, and haul a load of sand to market.
Now there was a place around behind a large rock near there, which the boys called their barn; and Rollo and James went to it, and pulled out their two little wheelbarrows, which they called their horse-carts. They wheeled them down to the edge of the water, and began to take up the sand by double handfuls, and put it in.
When they had got their carts loaded, they began to wheel them around to the trees, and stones, and bushes, saying,
"Who'll buy my sand?"
"Who'll buy my white sand?"
"Who'll buy my gray sand?"
"Who'll buy my black sand?"
But they did not seem to find any purchaser; and at last Rollo said, suddenly,
"O, I know who will buy our sand."
"Who?" said James.
"Mother."
"So she will," said James. "We will wheel it up to the house."
So they set off, and began wheeling their loads of sand up the pathway among the trees. They went on a little way, and presently stopped, and sat down on a bank to rest. Here they found a number of flowers, which they gathered and stuck up in the sand, so that their loads soon made a very gay appearance.
Just as they were going to set out again, Rollo said,
"But, James, how are we going to get through the quagmire?"
"O," said James, "we can step along on the bank by the side of the path."
"No," said Rollo; "for we cannot get our wheelbarrows along there."
"Why, yes,-we got them along there when we came down."
"But they were empty and light then; now they are loaded and heavy."
"So they are; but I think we can get along; it is not very muddy there now."
The place which the boys called the quagmire, was a low place in the pathway, where it was almost always muddy. This pathway was made by the cows, going up and down to drink; and it was a good, dry, and hard path in all places but one. This, in the spring of the year, was very wet and miry; and, during the whole summer, it was seldom perfectly dry. The boys called it the quagmire, and they used to get by on one side, in among the bushes.
They found that it was not very muddy at this time, and they contrived to get through with their loads of sand, and soon got to the house. They trundled their wheelbarrows up to the door leading out to the garden; and Rollo knocked at the door.
Now Rollo's mother happened, at this time, to be sitting at the back-parlor window, and she heard their voices as they came along the yard. So, supposing the knocking was some of their play, she just looked out of the window, and called out,
"Who's there?"
"Some sand-men," Rollo answered, "who have got some sand to sell."
His mother looked out of the window, and had quite a talk with them about their sand; she asked them where it came from, what color it was, and whether it was free from pebble-stones. The boys had to admit that there were a good many pebble-stones in it, and that pebble-stones were not very good to scour floors with.
The Gray Garden.
At last, Rollo's mother recommended that they should carry the sand out to a corner of the yard, where the chips used to be, and spread it out there, and stick their flowers up in it for a garden.
The boys liked this plan very much. "We can make walks and beds, beautifully, in the sand," said Rollo. "But, mother, do you think the flowers will grow?"
"No," said his mother, "flowers will not grow in sand; but, as it is rather a shady place, and you can water them occasionally, they will keep green and bright a good many days, and then, you know, you can get some more."
So the boys wheeled the sand out to the corner of the yard, took the flowers out carefully, and then tipped the sand down and spread it out. They tried to make walks and beds, but they found they had not got as much sand as they wanted. So they concluded to go back and get some more.
In fact, they found that, by getting a great many wheelbarrow loads of sand, they could cover over the whole corner, and make a noble large place for a sand-garden. And then, besides, as James said, when they were tired of it for a garden, they could build cities there, instead of having to go away down to the brook.
So they went on wheeling their loads of sand, for an hour or two. James had not learned to work as well as Rollo had, and he was constantly wanting to stop, and run into the woods, or play in the water; but Rollo told him it would be better to get all the sand up, first. They at last got quite a great heap, and then went and got a rake and hoe to level it down smooth.
Thus the afternoon passed away; and at last Mary told the boys that they must come and get ready for tea, for she was going to carry it in soon.
A Contract.
So Rollo and James brushed the loose sand from their clothes, and washed their faces and hands, and went in. As tea was not quite ready, they sat down on the front-door steps before Rollo's father, who was then sitting in his arm-chair in the entry, reading.
He shut up the book, and began to talk with the boys.
"Well, boys," said he, "what have you been doing all this afternoon?"
"O," said Rollo, "we have been hard at work."
"And what have you been doing?"
Rollo explained to his father that they had been making a sand-garden out in a corner of the yard, and they both asked him to go with them and see it.
They all three accordingly went out behind the house, the children running on before.
"But, boys," said Rollo's father, as they went on, "how came your feet so muddy?"
"O," said James, "they got muddy in the quagmire."
The boys explained how they could not go around the quagmire with their loaded wheelbarrows, and so had to pick their way through it the best way they could; and thus they got their shoes muddy a little; but they said they were as careful as they could be.
When they came to the sand-garden, Rollo's father smiled to see the beds and walks, and the rows of flowers stuck up in the sand. It made quite a gay appearance. After looking at it some time, they went slowly back again, and as they were walking across the yard,
"Father," said Rollo, "do you not think that is a pretty good garden?"
"Why, yes," said his father, "pretty good."
"Don't you think we have worked pretty well?"
"Why, I think I should call that play, not work."
"Not work!" said Rollo. "Is it not work to wheel up such heavy loads of sand? You don't know how heavy they were."
"I dare say it was hard; but boys play hard, sometimes, as well as work hard."
"But I should think ours, this afternoon, was work," said Rollo.
"Work," replied his father, "is when you are engaged in doing any thing in order to produce some useful result. When you are doing any thing only for the amusement of it, without any useful result, it is play. Still, in one sense, your wheeling the sand was work. But it was not very useful work; you will admit that."
"Yes, sir," said Rollo.
"Well, boys, how should you like to do some useful work for me, with your wheelbarrows? I will hire you."
"O, we should like that very much," said James. "How much should you pay us?"
"That would depend upon how much work you do. I should pay you what the work was fairly worth; as much as I should have to pay a man, if I were to hire a man to do it."