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On the cost sheet, wages are mere figures; out in the world, wages are bread boxes and coal bins, babies' cradles and children's education family comforts and contentment. On the other hand, there is something just as sacred about capital which is used to provide the means by which work can be made productive. Nobody is helped if our industries are sucked dry of their life-blood.
"You'd better sing small, or first thing you know you'll find yourself in the coal bin," threatened Joe. "How about throwing him in just for luck, fellows?" "You've got a funny idea of what luck is," said Jimmy. "I never did care much for coal bins. Thank you just the same." "You're welcome," retorted Joe. Then to Bob: "Do you think we can wind the wire on now, Bob?"
Guided by Izzy, the expert, its rough tongue was capable of licking open six hundred and fifty letters a minute. Ten minutes after the mail came in the orders were being filled; bins, shelves, warehouses, were emptying their contents.
It was always half bursting with overflowing grain bins and haylofts in the fall; the swallows twittered under the roof until time to go south for winter, as they sailed from the ventilators to their nests plastered against the rafters or eaves. The big swinging doors front and back could be opened to let the wind blow through in a strong draft.
"How did she look?" "Splendid. She was with one of her euchre friends, so I didn't have the chance for an old-time chat, but she made me promise to come and see her, and 'pon my word, just as young and pretty as you please, with a fine face veil and a purple feather boa and shopping out of the Busy Bee bins just the way she used to do." "She looked happy?" "Indeed she did!
In the fall, after the bins in the cellar had been well stocked, we excavated a circular pit in the warm mellow earth, and, covering the bottom with clean rye straw, emptied in basketful after basketful of hardy choice varieties, till there was a tent-shaped mound several feet high of shining variegated fruit.
Possibly they would be too late with their planting, but they went about it speedily, determinedly, just the same. All of them had had crop failures before. All of them had seen the labour of months go for naught in the blight of an evening's frost, or the sweep of a prairie fire. So here on this virgin isle, in soil whose sod had never been turned, they sowed from the bins of the slumbering ship.
A light or two twinkled; a frame house, a sod stable, and straw-covered wheat bins that looked like huge beehives grew into shape. The homestead was good, as homesteads in the back townships went, but Festing knew the land was badly worked. Charnock had begun well, with money in the bank, but luck had been against him and he had got slack.
Some varieties perish; but the ranker, hardier kinds, like the northern spy, the greening, or the black apple, or the russet, or the pinnock, how they ripen and grow in grace, how the green becomes gold, and the bitter becomes sweet! As the supply in the bins and barrels gets low and spring approaches, the buried treasures in the garden are remembered.
"Sound those pipes, they're in tune, and those bins are well fill'd; View that heap of old Hock in your rear; 'Yon bottles are Burgundy! mark how they're pil'd, Like artillery, tier over tier, My brave boys. "My cellar's my camp, and my soldiers my flasks, All gloriously rang'd in review; When I cast my eyes round, I consider my casks As kingdoms I've yet to subdue, My brave boys.
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