“I'll help you!” Jacob exclaimed, taking his arms from the rail, and looking as willing as he felt.
“I'm so glad! But I must tell you, at first, that we're not rich, and the hands are asking a great deal now. How much do you expect?”
“Whatever you please?” said he, climbing the fence.
“No, that's not our way of doing business. What do you say to a dollar a day, and found?”
“All right!” and with the words he was already at her side, taking long strides over the elastic turf.
“I will go on with my mowing,” said she, when they reached the horses, “and you can rake and load with my father. What name shall I call you by?”
“Everybody calls me Jake.”
“'Jake!' Jacob is better. Well, Jacob, I hope you'll give us all the help you can.”
With a nod and a light laugh she sprang upon the machine. There was a sweet throb in Jacob's heart, which, if he could have expressed it, would have been a triumphant shout of “I'm not afraid of her! I'm not afraid of her!”
The farmer was a kindly, depressed man, with whose quiet ways Jacob instantly felt himself at home. They worked steadily until sunset, when the girl, detaching her horses from the machine, mounted one of them and led the other to the barn. At the supper-table, the farmer's wife said: “Susan, you must be very tired.”