"I'm young
enough to lay a load of hay yet!"
"Yes, yes," the old Squire said soothingly, "I know you are, but the
loads are rather high, and you know that you are getting quite heavy--"
"Then I can tread down hay all the better!" grandmother Ruth cried,
turning visibly pink with vexation.
"All right, all right, Ruth!" the old Squire said with a smile,
prudently abandoning the argument.
Then Elder Witham put in his word. "The Lord has appointed to each of us
our three-score years and ten, and it behooves us to be mindful that the
end of all things is drawing nigh," he remarked soberly.
"Look here, Elder Witham," the old lady exclaimed with growing
impatience, "you are here haying to-day, not preaching! I'm going to lay
that load of hay if there are men enough here to pitch it on the cart to
me."
Jim and Asa snorted; Theodora's efforts to keep a grave face were
amusing; and with queer little wrinkles gathering round the corners of
his mouth the old Squire, who had finished his luncheon, rose hastily to
go out.
We went back to the south field and plied our seven rakes vigorously for
an hour and a half. Then Asa went to get the horses and the long rack
cart.
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