Harry grew rather pink and stammered a polite refusal.
"Well," said Mrs. Robinson, "I know you ain't used to this kind of work, but any one can see you're smart. You'd get the hang of things in half a day."
"I'd stay in a minute," Harry assured her, "just because you were so kind to us when Rob got hurt. But you know how it is, with all these cattle round, and ours just new to the place. If they should get out, they might get way across the river before Rob comes home."
"Yes, that's right. And you two have got to work together if you're goin' to make anything of homesteadin'. Pity you didn't take up a claim of your own while you were at it. A girl that's got a hundred and sixty in her own name is as independent as anyone."
"Yes, I'm sorry I didn't; but there's plenty to do, even on Rob's land."
"Ain't that the truth! Just wait until you get a crop in, though, and are lookin' for harvest hands—"
"We shan't have that trouble for a year or two, anyhow. Rob expects to go out to work, haying and harvesting for other people, and I suppose I shall stay at home and look after things."
"Say! Why couldn't you come over and help me at haying and harvesting? I'd pay you five a week and your board, and it'd keep the traces stiff here. Seems like the wagon is allus on my heels, as you might say, in the rush season."
"I'll come if I can," Harry promised.
She turned out the crisp, brown potatoes, poured the gravy into a bowl, and set the coffee back while she fried the eggs. Mrs. Robinson went out to pull the bell rope. The big iron bell hanging from the gable clanged its call, and a shout answered from the corral.