The next day he worked scrubbing the porches, straightening the lawn and hedges, even sweeping the driveway to the bridge clear of wind-whirled leaves and straw.

He scouted around the dry-house and laboratory, and spent several extra hours on the barn so that when evening came everything was in perfect order.

Then he dressed, ate his supper and drove to the city.
He stopped at the mail box, but there was nothing from the Girl.

The Harvester did not know whether he was sorry or glad.

A letter might have said the same thing.