Mr. Spencer shook his head. “I never saw labor so scarce and unreliable. I counted on Jeff to help work the crop after I put it in; now he’s in the army, you know.�
“You need him mighty bad at home.�
“Yes, but we must do without him; there’s where he ought to be. Well, if I can’t get hands to chop my cotton this week, I’ll have to plow it up and sow peas or something that I can raise without hoe work. Cotton is like tobacco, a ‘gentleman crop’ that requires waiting on; it won’t stand grass. My crop must be worked this week, or it’s lost.�
Patsy went home, frowning to herself as she thought how sick and worried Mr. Spencer looked. At the dinner table that day, she told about seeing him and what he had said about his cotton.
“Poor fellow!� said Mrs. Osborne. “I hope he can get hands. It would be a serious thing for him to lose his crop.�
“I wish——� began Patsy.
“It would be a severe personal loss,� said Mr. Osborne, “and these things are national calamities, too; cotton is one of the sinews of war.�
“Sinews of war? What do you mean, Uncle Mayo?� asked David.
“Cotton is one of the great essentials of war,� explained Mr. Osborne. “Its fiber is used for tents and soldiers’ uniforms and airplane wings and automobile tires; its seed supplies food products; and fiber and seed are used in making the high explosives of modern warfare—guncotton, nitroglycerin, cordite. Cotton is one of the great essentials of war.�
“What a lot of things it’s good for!� exclaimed Dick.