Often there were jolly times when we cut the south
field. Our enjoyment was owing partly to the fact that we were getting
toward the end of the hard work, and partly to the bumblebees' nests we
found in the swales. Moreover, when we reached that field grandmother
Ruth was wont to come out to lay the last load of hay and ride to the
barn on it.
In former days when she and the old Squire were young she had helped him
a great deal with the haying. Nearly every day she finished her own work
early--the cooking, the butter making, the cheese making--and came out
to the field to help rake and load the hay. The old Squire has often
told me that, except at scythe work, grandmother Ruth was the best
helper he had ever had, for at that time she was quick, lithe and strong
and understood the work as well as any man. Later when they were in
prosperous circumstances she gave up doing so much work out of doors;
but still she enjoyed going to the hayfield, and even after we young
folks had gone home to live she made it her custom to lay the last load
of hay and ride to the barn on it just to show that she could do it
still. She was now sixty-four years old, however, and had grown stout,
so stout indeed that to us youngsters she looked rather venturesome on a
load of hay.
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