"Whoever heard of such a thing as planting corn in an old mill pond,"
scoffed his uncle.

"I did," replied Bob smiling.

"Who told you?" demanded his uncle, looking him over from head to
foot, for Bob with his ideas was getting to be more and more of a
puzzle to him every day as he upset the long-established farm
traditions.

"The president of the bank himself," declared Bob. "At least I
overheard him tell another man that he would."

"You overheard John White, president of the First National Bank,
discussing with someone else that I wanted to borrow a thousand
dollars? I don't believe it. John White wouldn't discuss my affairs
with anyone, especially when boys are standing around listening,"
vehemently declared his uncle.

"I wasn't standing around listening," said Bob blushing. "I was
fishing in the pond yesterday and I sat in the mill to get out of the
rain. I was fishing in the forebay, and they came in the mill to wait
until the rain was over and sat down and talked."

"What! They talked about me?" demanded his uncle.

"They talked about you and grandfather and all the other farmers
around here. Said you farmers never used your heads and let your farms
run down, when all you had to do was to show him you had some 'git up
and git' and you could have all the money you wanted."