Thus four uneventful years passed away, and it had come to the time of the wheat harvest.
“And it’s to be the biggest, grandest frolic ever was in this part of the country,” declared the settler, proudly.
Whereupon, days before, Mercy began to brew and bake, and even Wahneenah condescended to assist in the household labor. But she did this that she might if possible lighten that of her Sun Maid, who had now grown to a “real good-sized girl an’ just as smart as chain lightning.”
This was Abel’s description. Mercy’s would have been:
“Kitty’s well enough. But she hates to sew her seam like she hates poison. She’d ruther be makin’ posies an’ animals out my nice clean fresh-churned butter than learn cookin’. But she’s good-tempered. Never flies out at all, like Gaspar, ’cept I lose patience with Wahneeny. Then, look sharp!”
“Well, I tell you that out in this country a harvestin’ is a big institution!” cried Abel to Gaspar as, early on the morning of the eventful day, they were making all things ready for the accommodation of the people who would flock to the Smith farm to assist in the labor and participate in the fun. “If there’s some things we miss here, we have some that can’t be matched out East. Every white settler’s every other settler’s neighbor, even though there’s miles betwixt their clearin’s. All hands helpin’ so makes light work of raisin’ cabins or barns, sowin’, reapin’, or clearin’. I—I declare I feel as excited as a boy. But you don’t seem to. You’re gettin’ a great lad now, Gaspar, an’ one these days I’ll be thinkin’ of payin’ you some wages. If so be I can afford it, an’——”
“And Mercy will let you!”
“Hi, diddle diddle! What’s struck you crosswise, sonny?”
“I’m tired of working so hard for other people. I want a chance to do something for myself. I’m not ungrateful; don’t think it. But see. I am already taller than you and I can do as much work in a day. Where is the justice, then, of my labor going for naught?”
“Why, Gaspar. Why, why, why!” exclaimed the pioneer, too astonished to say more.