Once we stopped at the lower end of the field to get a drink from a jug of water set in the shade of a fence corner, and once we set the horse in the thills and moved the seed farther up the field.

And tired and hungry as I felt I really enjoyed the work; I really enjoyed talking with this busy father and son, and I wondered what their home life was like and what were their real ambitions and hopes.

Thus the sun sank lower and lower, the long shadows began to creep into the valleys, and we came finally toward the end of the field.

Suddenly the boy Ben cried out: "There's Sis!" I glanced up and saw standing near the gateway a slim, bright girl of about twelve in a fresh gingham dress.
"We're coming!" roared Ben, exultantly.
While we were hitching up the horse, the man said to me: "You'll come down with us and have some supper." "Indeed I will," I replied, trying not to make my response too eager.
"Did mother make gingerbread to-day ?" I heard the boy whisper audibly.
"Sh-h--" replied the girl, "who is that man ?" "_I_ don't know" with a great accent of mystery--"and dad don't know.
Did mother make gingerbread ?" "Sh-h--he'll hear you." "Gee! but he can plant potatoes.

He dropped down on us out of a clear sky." "What is he ?" she asked.