"I'll tell you next fall," she replied, with a laugh. "No problems to-night, thank you."
"I'm gathering a queer lot of helpers in my effort to live in the country," I continued. "There's old Mr. Jacox, who is too aged to hold his own in other harvest-fields. Bagley and his tribe—"
"And a city wife and a lot of city children," she added.
"And a city greenhorn of a man at the head of you all," I concluded.
"Well," she replied, rising with an odd little blending of laugh and yawn, "I'm not afraid but that we shall all earn our salt."
Thus came to an end the long, eventful day, which prepared the way for many others of similar character, and suggested many of the conditions of our problem of country living.
Bagley appeared bright and early the following morning with his two elder children, and I was now confronted with the task of managing them and making them useful. Upon one thing I was certainly resolved—there should be no quixotic sentiment in our relations, and no companionship between his children and mine.
Therefore, I took him and his girl and boy aside, and said: "I'm going to be simple and outspoken with you. Some of my neighbors think I'm a fool because I give you work when I can get others. I shall prove that I am not a fool, for the reason that I shall not permit any nonsense, and you can show that I am not a fool by doing your work well and quietly. Bagley, I want you to understand that your children do not come here to play with mine. No matter whom I employed, I should keep my children by themselves. Now, do you understand this?"
They nodded affirmatively.
"Are you all willing to take simple, straightforward directions, and do your best? I'm not asking what is unreasonable, for I shall not be more strict with you than with my own children."