’round here that can put down carpets equal to him.” And then she sighed again, this time more heavily. Every one knew that if she had her way, her husband’s nephew, who had grown up as one of their own family, would not be working his way through college in this stern fashion.

As for Morton himself, perhaps, being a young fellow not much given to talking of his private affairs in public, he was glad to see a stream of men issuing just then from the house, and it was but a few minutes later when a second call summoned him and his fellows to their places.

It was hardly an hour that the wheels of the great machine stood still. At the end of that time the workers were all at their places again. And now that the masculine appetites were satisfied, the women sat down to eat, an occupation which they prolonged far beyond the time of their predecessors. To the Northmore girls, indeed, it seemed as if it would never be over, but there came an end to it at last, and even to the washing of the dishes.

Esther would not consent to the proposal of the women that they should do the work without her, but Kate—with better wisdom perhaps—accepted it with the frankest pleasure. She was a girl who had a healthy curiosity about everything that went on around her, and no one was surprised to see her presently standing in the field, beside the engine that made the wheels of the threshing machine go round, getting points from the man in charge as to how they did it. After that an invitation from Morton Elwell, who was on the feed board, to come up and watch the work from that point was instantly accepted, amid the laughing approval of the crowd. For her sake the speed of the work was slackened a little, the bundles were thrown from the loaded wagon more slowly, and Morton found time, while cutting their bands and thrusting them in at their place, to answer all her questions.

It was a pretty picture she made, standing in her blue gingham dress on this crimson throne, her sunbonnet fallen on her shoulders and her dark hair blowing about her face, but she knew nothing of this. She was thinking only of that wonderful machine, and she knew before she left her place how it whirled the loosened sheaves from sight, rubbed out the grain in its rough iron palms, sent the free clean wheat in a rushing stream down to the waiting measure, and flung out the broken straw to be caught on the pitchforks of the laborers behind and pressed to its place on the growing stack.

There was an exhilaration in it not to be dreamed of by her sister, who glanced at her occasionally from the kitchen windows and wondered how she could bear to be in the midst of all that heat and noise. For her part, she was quite content to let the machine stand merely as part of the picture. And perhaps for her it wore the greater dignity from her vague idea of its internal workings.

The afternoon wore away swiftly. There was a five o’clock supper to be served to the men, but this was not the elaborate affair the dinner had been, and by sunset of the long bright day the work indoors and out had been brought to a successful finish. The shining stubble of the field lay bare except for the fresh clean straw stack. The machine was rumbling on its way to another farm, and Jake Erlock’s kitchen had been restored to a state of order equal to that in which his kindly neighbors had found it.

It had been expected that Dr. Northmore would come for his daughters, but, as he had not appeared when the work was finished, they accepted the offer of a ride home with a farmer who was going their way. The sight of them sitting in the big Studebaker wagon must have acted as a prompter to Morton Elwell’s memory, for he suddenly recalled that he had an important errand in town, and proposed to go along too, a proposal to which the owner of the wagon agreed with the greatest good will. There was not a chair for him,—the girls had been established in the only two,—and the farmer and his hired man occupied the seat, but the young man settled him on a bundle of straw in the bottom of the wagon, with an air of supreme content.

They were old comrades, he and the Northmore girls; the girls could not remember the time when he had not been their escort and champion, their Fidus Achates, all the more free to devote himself to their service because he had no sisters or even girl cousins of his own. He was two years older than either of them, and his years at college seemed to make him older still, but if his absence had made any difference in the perfect freedom of their relations, he, at least, had not guessed it.

“Well, you girls must be glad to be through with this,” he said, as the team started at a rattling pace down the road. “I know you’re awfully tired.”

He included them both in his glance, but it rested longest on Esther’s face, which certainly looked a little weary under the shadow of her wide straw hat.

“You must be tired yourself, Mort,” she said, looking down at him. “You’ve been working ever since daylight, haven’t you?”

“Oh, but I’m used to that,” he said gayly, “and this is new business for you. I must say, though, I never saw things go better. There won’t be anybody round here to beat you at housekeeping if you keep on like this.”

She frowned slightly. “It was your aunt who managed everything,” she said; “all we did was to help a little.”

“That isn’t what she’ll say about it,” said the young man, and then he added warmly: “but my Aunt Jenny’s a host wherever you put her. There’s no doubt about that. My, what a good place this world would be if everybody in it was made like her!” And there was an assent to this which ought to have made the good woman’s ears burn, if there is any truth in the old saying.

For a while the talk ran lightly on the incidents of the day; then it grew more personal, and plans for the summer fell under discussion. Morton’s were all for work. He was of age, master of his own time, and he meant to make a good sum toward the expenses of the coming year at college. He talked of his hopes with the utmost frankness, and then questioned of theirs as one who had the fullest rights of friendship.

“Will you go away anywhere?” he asked; “or are you going to stay at home all summer?”

“That depends,” said Kate, answering for both. “We may go up to Maxinkuckee for a little while; but what we’d like to do, what we’d like best—” she paused upon the words with a lifting of her hands and the drawing of a long ecstatic breath, “would be to make a visit at grandfather’s. You can’t think how he’s urging us to come.”

“Do you mean go to New England?” he exclaimed, sitting up straight on his bundle of straw.

“Yes, to mother’s old home,” said Kate. “Just think, we haven’t been there since we were little girls. Mother’s been trying to persuade grandfather to come out here, but he says he’s too old to make the journey, and that we must come there. He has fairly set his heart on it.”

“And so have the others too,” said Esther. “Stella’s letters have been full of it for the last six months.”

“Stella’s that cousin of yours who’s such an artist, isn’t she?” said Morton. He was looking extremely interested.

“Oh, she’s an artist and everything else that’s lovely,” said Esther. “I don’t suppose you ever saw the kind of girl that she is. She has a studio in Boston in the winters. She sent me a picture of it once, and it’s perfectly charming. And only think, she’s been in Europe twice—once she was studying over there. And she’s seen those wonderful old places and the famous pictures, and been a part of everything that’s beautiful.”

“That’s the sort of thing you’d like to do yourself, I suppose,” said the young man, drawing a wisp of straw slowly through his fingers.

“Like it!” she cried. “To travel, to study, to see beautiful things, to hear beautiful music, and to be in touch