"How well you are looking, Clyde," said Kitty Wade, as she entered the breakfast room.
"Positively blooming," said Wade.
"Positively bloomin' hungry," laughed Clyde. "I haven't had such an appetite since I left boarding school."
"God save all here!" said Casey, from the door. "How did you sleep? No need to ask you ladies, and it doesn't matter about Wade. Hey, you, Feng! You catch breakfast quick!"
During the meal they made plans for the day. In the morning Casey was going to shift the water to his oats; in the afternoon he would drive them over to Talapus. They would have supper there, and return by moonlight. Meanwhile they were to consider the place theirs, to go where and do what they liked.
"I'll help you," Wade offered.
"We'll all help you," said Clyde.
"I can rig Wade out for irrigating," Casey replied, "but not you ladies. It's too muddy a job for you."
"But I should like to see how it is done," said Clyde.
She had her way, and accompanied them to the field, watching the turning of the water down the rows, the careful adjustment of its flow, and the progress of the streams. In spite of her care she became wet and muddy—and enjoyed herself the more.