layin' on
it--when it kind o' sloshes around like water--an' the clouds go over
it, droppin' shadders down on it, an' a hawk kind o' goes skimmin' over
it, divin' into it once in a while----"

He did not finish; it was not necessary.

"Yes, sir!" adjudged Gearheart, after a pause, leaning his elbows on
the table and looking out of the door on the far-stretching,
sun-glorified plain.

"The harvest kind o' justifies the winter we have out here. That is,
when we have a harvest such as this. Fact is, we fellers live six
months o' the year lookin' ahead to harvest, an' t'other six months
lookin' back to it. Well, this won't buy the woman a dress, Ans. We
must get that header set up to-night if we can."

They pushed their chairs back noisily and rose to go out. Flaxen said:

"Say, which o' you boys is goin' to help me churn to-night?"

Anson groaned, while she laughed.

"I don't know, Flax; ask us an easier one."

"We'll attend to that after it gets too dark to work on the machine,"
added Bert.

"Well, see 't y' do. I can't do it; I've got bread to mix an' a chicken
to dress. Say, if you don't begin cuttin' till day after to-morrow, we
can go down to the sociable to-morrow night. Last one o' the season."

"I wish it was the last one before the kingdom come," growled Bert as
he "stomped" out the door. "They're a bad lot. The idea o' takin' down
four dollars' worth o' grub an' then payin' four dollars for the
privilege of eatin' half of it! I'll take my chicken here, when I'm
hungry."

"Bert ain't partial to sociables, is he, pap?" laughed Flaxen.

"I should hate to have the minister dependin' on Bert for a livin'."

"Sa-ay, pap!"

"Wal, babe?"

"I expect I'll haf t' have a new dress one o' these days."

"Think so?"

"You bet."

"Why, what's the matter with the one y' got on? Ain't no holes in it
that I can see," looking at it carefully and turning her around as if
she were on a pivot.

"Well, ain't it purty short, pap?" she said suggestively.

"I swear, I don't know but it is," conceded Anson, scratching his head;
"I hadn't paid much 'tention to it before. It certainly is a lee-tle
too short. Lemme see: ain't no way o' lettin' it down, is they?"

"Nary. She's clean down to the last notch now," replied Flaxen
convincingly.

"Couldn't pull through till we thrash?" he continued, still in a
tentative manner.

"Could, but don't like to," she answered, laughing again, and showing
her white teeth pleas