two deep circles and
they all moved mechanically round and round, like parts of a machine,
dull-eyed and covered with sweat.

At last William raised the welcome cry, "All done!"--the men threw down
their forks. Uncle Frank began to call in a gentle, soothing voice,
"_Whoa_, lads! _Steady_, boys! Whoa, there!"

But the horses had been going so long and so steadily that they could
not at once check their speed. They kept moving, though slowly, on and
on till their owners slid from the stacks and seizing the ends of the
sweeps, held them. Even then, after the power was still, the cylinder
kept its hum, till David throwing a last sheaf into its open maw, choked
it into silence.

Now came the sound of dropping chains, the clang of iron rods, and the
thud of hoofs as the horses walked with laggard gait and weary
down-falling heads to the barn. The men, more subdued than at dinner,
washed with greater care, and combed the chaff from their beards. The
air was still and cool, and the sky a deep cloudless blue starred with
faint fire.

Supper though quiet was more dramatic than dinner had been. The table
lighted with kerosene lamps, the clean white linen, the fragrant dishes,
the women flying about with steaming platters, all seemed very cheery
and very beautiful, and the men who came into the light and warmth of
the kitchen with aching muscles and empty stomachs, seemed gentler and
finer than at noon. They were nearly all from neighboring farms, and my
mother treated even the few hired men like visitors, and the talk was
all hearty and good tempered though a little subdued.

One by one the men rose and slipped away, and father withdrew to milk
the cows and bed down the horses, leaving the women and the youngsters
to eat what was left and "do up the dishes."

After we had eaten our fill Frank and I also went out to the barn (all
wonderfully changed now to our minds by the great stack of straw), there
to listen to David and father chatting as they rubbed their tired
horses.--The lantern threw a dim red light on the harness and on the
rumps of the cattle, but left mysterious shadows in the corners. I could
hear the mice rustling in the straw of the roof, and from the farther
end of the dimly-lighted shed came the regular _strim-stram_ of the
streams of milk falling into the bottom of a tin pail as the hired hand
milked the big roan cow.

All this was very momentous to me as I sat on the oat box, shivering in
the cold air,