On the day of my narrative, we had the last of the grass in
the south field "mown and making" on the ground. There were four or five
tons of it, all of which we wanted to put into the barn before night,
for, though the forenoon was bright and clear, we could hear distant
rumblings; and there were other signs that foul weather was coming. The
old Squire sent Ellen over to summon Elder Witham to help us; if the
rain held off until nightfall, we hoped to have the hay inside the barn.
At noon, while we were having luncheon, grandmother Ruth asked at what
time we expected to have the last load ready to go in.
"Not before five o'clock," Asa replied. "It has all to be raked yet."
"Well, I shall be down there by that time," she said in a very
matter-of-fact tone. "I'll bring the girls with me."
"Don't you think, Ruth, that perhaps you had better give it up this
year?" the old Squire said persuasively.
"But why?" grandmother Ruth exclaimed, not at all pleased.
"Well, you know, Ruth, that neither of us is quite so young as we once
were--" the old Squire began apologetically.
"Speak for yourself, Joseph, not for me!" she interrupted.
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