"What's that?"
"A pain--all over here!" She laid her hands across her forehead.
"Does it hurt?"
He gave sympathy in his voice at once.
"Keeps on frobbing," said she.
"Let God feel it frob and come and play," he suggested with greater wisdom than he knew.
That had to be explained to her. They sat down in the hay, the first man in him explaining the mysteries of life to the first woman in her. Mary found them, fast friends, sitting together behind a high cock of hay.
"I thought I'd lost you, John," she said, and when he did not look up on the instant, knew she had indeed lost something of him she could never find again. No longer was she the only woman in his world. In a strange and unexpected moment he had found some one he could turn to to hide his pain if she became quite still like the moles.
They met often after that day. In a little while they became inseparable.
"Young things must have young things to play with," Mary told herself. It was Nature. They never reared young calves alone on the farm. Always they had companions.