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"You're takin' care of that Nelson place all by yourself?"

"Well, me and my cousins and sisters. But I'm kinda in charge."

He gave a whistle. "That's a pretty big job at your age. Aren't you supposed to be havin' fun and worrying about school and what girls you like?"

I blushed a little. "I guess. But now we've been work ing on it for a couple months so we want to make sure the trees make apples."

"Only sounds fair." He nodded. "Wish I had some hard-workin' boys like you around here." He gave me another big smile.

"So is there any way I could have some of your manure for the trees?"

"Okay with me, but I better check with my pop first. Hey, Pop!" he yelled loudly. "Hey, Pop, come on out here!"

Another short man walked out of the building. He wore the same brown coveralls and had the same buzzed haircut. He had a pot belly and looked about thirty years older than Jerry. Jerry told him what I wanted, and then he put his hand out to me. "Hoppy Wheeler. Glad to meet you."

I shook his hand and said, "Hoppy?" without thinking.

"Funny name, isn't it? You can blame my brothers for it," he said with a laugh. "As you can see, we make two things around here, milk and manure. Probably better known for the manure, though."

I laughed. "Do you have any extra I could use?"

"I'd say a hard workin' little farmer like you could have all he wants."

"Really?"

"'Course I'm sure you won't forget us when those apples are ready, right?" he said with a wink. "You got a way to haul the stuff?"

"Yeah, we've got a tractor with a wagon."

"You see that big pile at the end of the fences? Feel free to load it up down there."

I thanked them both a few times, and they slapped me on the back, still laughing about me being a little farmer. I ran the mile back home and found Sam and Michael watching Tom and Jerry on TV Amy was holding the phone with its cord wound around her and chattering away with one of her friends.

"Okay, guys, I'm back," I said loudly while trying to catch my breath. "Were you worried about me?"

"I liked having you gone," said Michael, still staring at the TV I waited for him to laugh, but he didn't.

I looked over at Amy and made a sign that I had something to tell everyone. She gave me a sour look, rolled her eyes, and started easing her way out of the phone conversation. I waited until she hung up and then said, "Sorry to spoil everyone's party, but I've been making arrangements for our next big job."

"What is it?" asked Sam.

"I'll tell you after we make some changes to the wagon," I said, trying to sound mysterious. "So, who's ready?"

Amy moved grudgingly to turn off the TV Michael, who hadn't been paying attention, jerked up and whined, "Hey, what's going on?"

The three of them followed me out to the tractor and wagon parked between our houses. "We need to figure out a way to add some sides to this wagon so it can hold some stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Amy asked suspiciously.

"You'll see. But first I guess we need some boards that we could attach to the sides. Any ideas?"

Everyone's eyes moved toward the clubhouse a few feet away that Amy and I had built when we were ten. We had had grand designs but ended up with a collection of weatherworn boards and wood scraps held together with rusty nails at crooked angles. The whole thing collapsed after a couple of swings with a hammer. We put some of the biggest boards against the side of the wagon and nailed them into place.

"How strong does it have to be?" asked Sam as he pulled on a board, causing it to bend easily.

"I think a lot stronger than that," I replied in a discouraged voice.

My dad came walking up while we were discussing alternate designs.

"Don't you kids have a farm to run? What are you doing hanging around here?"

"We're trying to add some sides to the wagon so it can hold things better," I answered.

He looked at the boards we had nailed into place, wiggling them back and forth.

"This has got to be the shoddiest piece of work I've ever seen. Looks like it