Cherry wiped her eyes and broke into a chorus from “Iolanthe.”
CHAPTER XXI.
WE MAKE HAY.
SUNDAY it rained until late in the afternoon, but at that time a westerly wind sprang up which rapidly dried things, and enabled us to go out for a sunset walk.
“This is a place in which to do nothing but be happy,” said Cherry to Ethel as we stood on top of our favorite rock and looked up the valley for miles and miles, watching belated and feathery clouds fly across it, trying to catch up with the rain clouds that had all day long swept by.
“That’s what I felt when I first came up,” said Ethel, “but I’m beginning to feel so strong now that Philip has sent for a lawn tennis set, and James is going to mark a court, and you and I can play against Philip.”
“Yes, and while we’re waiting for it to come,” said I, “we’ll have to pitch in and give our next-door neighbour a spell of work at hay-making.”
“What’s a spell of work?” asked Cherry.
“Why, it’s falling to, and helping your neighbour this week, and next week he falls to, and helps you.”
“Oh, how delicious. And do you know how to make hay?”
“Anyone can learn how in a single morning. First you cut it, then you toss it, and then you gather it. It’s as easy as lying.”