After a hug, and a hand-shake, and a hearty laugh, we jogged along up the road. Even if we were only boys I don't believe we shall ever forget that ride. It was late in the afternoon, and the air was so cool and sweet that it hardly seemed as if it could be the same hot, dusty day we began in the city. We could smell the cedar and fir-balsam all along the way, and every little while there was a bird-note like a sweet-toned bell.
It wasn't very long before we spied Grandpa's house, and dear old Grandma in the door waving her apron to us.
"Well, Mother," called out Grandpa, as we drove into the yard, "here are two new hired men for you. How do you think you will like them?"
By the way Grandma hugged us and kissed us, I guess she thought we would suit her pretty well. I remember something that suited us, too, and that was the good things we had to eat that night.
I wonder if there is any one else in the whole world who can cook like one's own grandmother? Perhaps there is,—but I know one thing, Grandma Snow was the best cook I ever saw. You should have seen that supper! There were hot biscuits, and fried chicken, and honey, and gingerbread, and cookies, and strawberry tarts, and cottage cheese, and so many good things that we couldn't eat half of them.
Every time we stopped eating Grandma would say, "Something must be the matter with these boys. They haven't any appetite." And Grandpa would look at us over his spectacles and answer, "They do look pale and thin. Give them another tart." Then he'd give one of his great laughs and shake all over like a big bowl of jelly.
We had just time after supper to help Grandpa and the hired man get in one load of hay. Then it was dark, and we were so tired and sleepy that we were glad to climb into bed,—just the highest, whitest, softest bed you ever saw.
We made Grandma promise to call us very early, and at five o'clock the next morning we were ready for breakfast and the day's work in the hay-field.
What fun it was to rake after the wagon, and to ride home on those great, sweet-smelling loads of hay!
Of course we had plenty of time to play, but we liked to work, too; and the work on a farm seems like play to boys who have always lived in the city.