End of the Line

Chapter Eleven. Sharing the Load

Chapter Eleven

Sharing the Load

Pop Benson suspected the Macleans were in financial difficulty. His suspicions were confirmed over supper that first night when, Mrs. Maclean confided that they had only $400 to see them through the winter, a period when there was little income, as the cows dried up, and egg production from the poultry was low. Gallantly, Pop offered his family's meagre savings. 

"Nae, Mr. Benson, hang on to your money. You're gonna need every cent." 

"What for?" 

"Have you winter clothes for everyone Mr. Benson? 

"Please call me Pop." 

"Well have you, Pop?" 

"We have the usual." 

"I can guarantee that your English winter woollies won't keep you warm here, and what about your other expenses?"  

"What expenses?" said Pop, suddenly realizing that he might also be in deep financial distress. 

"School fees for the younguns and you're going to have to buy them school supplies."

The colour drained from Pop's face.  

"Don't panic Mr. Benson. I'm sure that together we'll be able to work our way out of this mess. We've had a bumper harvest this year. I'm sure you noticed the orchards on the drive in today?" 

"I did," said Dan." The branches were dangling in the grass there was so much fruit on them." 

"That's just the orchard. We've had a bumper crop of everything this year." 

"What's everything?" asked Dan. 

"Can I show them Mum?"  

"Sure lassie." 

Meg led all the curious Bensons, with the exception of her mother, who stayed behind to help Mrs. Maclean with the washing up, down to a damp earthen-floored cellar. Cans and jars of everything from rhubarb to radishes lay on the higher wooden shelves. The lower shelves were replete with turnips, carrots, cabbages and some other exotic vegetables that the Bensons couldn't identify. 

"Who does the bottling?" asked Pop. 

"Mother of course. She tries to do everything but although she'd never admit it, it's getting to be a bit too much for her.  

"What's in the barrels?" asked George. 

Meg moved over and lifted the lid off one of the three barrels in the centre of the cellar. "The best potatoes in the Townships," she bragged, brandishing a carefully chosen specimen. 

"What about the one in the corner?" 

Meg grinned, led them over to the barrel and pried it open. The girls collectively squealed. "That's last year's porker," she said. 

"Did you kill it?" asked a suddenly interested Bill. 

"Sorry to disappoint you Bill. We bring in the local butcher for that." 

"You know Meg; you have enough food here to feed an army. What do you plan to do with it all?" asked George. 

"We're going to try and sell most of it at Brome Fair." 

"When's that?" 

"First week of September. That gives us just enough time to bring in the apples and the rest of the harvest. If you all help and agree to our terms, we should be able to solve all our money problems.