Reuben shouldered his scythe as he said the last words, and went off to a more distant part of the orchard, and I set to work at my planting. I knew pretty well by this time that it was worse than waste of time taking Mr. Harrod's side against Reuben.
I wondered what he would have thought if he could have heard me taking his side. But I don't think he thought much about having a "side." He was too eager about his work.
I set to planting my cuttings busily—so busily that I did not hear steps on the gravel behind me, and looked up suddenly to see Mr. Harrod on the path beside me. He did not say anything, but stood a while watching me. At last I stood up, with the trowel in my hand, and my face, I do not doubt, very red and hot beneath my big print sun-bonnet.
"Did you meet Reuben just now?" asked I, rather by way of saying something.
"No," answered he; "I've come straight from your father's room. He wants you."
"Does he? Well, I can't go this minute. I must finish this job. I've neglected it for a week. What does he want me for?"
I kneeled down and began my work again.
"He and I have been discussing a new scheme," said Mr. Harrod, without answering my question.
"What, about co-operation, and children's schools and things?" cried I, with a smile. "Is he going to press you into it too?"
"Oh no; about the farm," answered he. "His possessions in hops are very small, and there's a fine and unusual chance just turned up of making money. I want him to take on another small farm—specially for hops."