“He didn’t know we were discussing quite another subject, else his remark would have been rude and irrelevant,” said Wright, vexed at this cutting into his paper on the ultimate perfection of his and everybody’s being.
“I think it would be very useful to see what we can do about the corn,” said the blacksmith. “If we are late the chances are there’ll be another drought in July, and our crop won’t be first-class.”
“Is anyone’s land ready for planting?” inquired Madame.
“None as I know of, except Brother Dummy’s,” said Uncle David. “He’s more forward nor anybody: always first in work.”
“Of course, poor deaf creature! he can’t do anything but dumbly work like a——” began Brother Wright.
“My land is ready for planting,” burst in Brother Huntley with a scream.
“Then it shall be planted to-morrow,” cried Madame. “I’ll go myself.”
“You!” exclaimed Olive.
“Certainly, child. Don’t you think I can work as well as any other woman?”
She rapidly wrote a few words on a slip of paper and passed it to Brother Huntley, who read it, nodded with satisfaction, and said: “Five o’clock in the morning!” in a voice so low that no one knew he was speaking.