And the foolish youth, at that, straightway fell to stoking the fire. I had to laugh a little. And that made him study me with solemn eyes.
“Just think, Gershom,” I said as I gathered up my sewing, “my heart is perishing of cold in a province which is estimated to contain almost seventeen per cent. of the world’s known coal supply!”
And that, apparently, left him with something to think about as I made my way off to bed ... It’s hard to write coherently, I find, when you’re not living coherently ...
Syd Woodward, of Buckhorn, having learned that I can drive a tractor, has asked me if I’ll take part in the plowing-match to-morrow. And I’ve given my promise to show Mere Man what a woman can do in the matter of turning a mile-long furrow. I feel rather audacious over it all. And I’m glad to inject a little excitement into life ... I’m saving up for a new sewing-machine ... Tarzanette has got rather badly cut up in some of our barb-wire fencing.
Friday the Fifteenth
The plowing-match was good fun, and I enjoyed it even more than I had expected. The men “kidded” me a good deal, and gave me a cheer at the end (I don’t quite know whether it was for my work or my costume) and I had to pose for photographs, and a moving-picture man even followed me about for a round, shooting me as I turned my prairie stubble upside down. But the excitement of the plowing-match has been eclipsed by a bit of news which has rather taken my breath away. It is Peter Ketley who has bought the Harris Ranch.