A farmer raised good corn and wheat and sold them. In return he got clothes that wore out in two or three years, a house that would not stand more than a century, an automobile good for less than fifty thousand miles, furniture that broke down in two generations, food that lasted hardly a day.
The life of a farmer was useless, vain, empty, unsatisfying, monotonous, depressing, dreary. He was a farmer and he had but one collar-button.
A terrible joy clutched at the boy’s heart. He knew that he was playing the part to perfection. If he could keep it up through four hundred and fifty-nine pages the book would be a success. The Young Hamlet of the Prairies would make a hit.
CHAPTER XIX
Claude and his men, B Company, were holding the Boar’s Head trench. He knew that the German attack might be expected about dawn. The smoke and darkness had begun to take on the livid color that announced the coming of daybreak, when a corporal hurried to him, saluted and announced that the linemen had completed the connection and that Claude was called on the telephone.
He went to the dug-out, took down the receiver.
“Lieutenant Wheeler, in command B Company in H-2, speaking.”
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“What? Miss Willa? For the land’s sake, what’re you doing way out here?”
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