They went with him a hundred yards or so. Then Carrie gasped at what she saw in the growing light of dawn.
"Oh," she cried joyously, "it hasn't reached the rest of it!"
"No," said Gallwey, "we are on the dividing line. I don't know how many bushels it has reaped, but, by comparison, it is not enough to worry about. A little wonderful. Still, I believe it's not unusual, and I have seen very much the same thing once before."
"Is there no more of the wheat damaged?" asked Carrie, and there was still a tension in her voice.
"Not a blade," said Gallwey. "I've been all round."
Then all the strength seemed to leave the girl. Moving shakily, with her hand on Eveline Annersly's arm, she turned towards the house, as the pearly greyness crept into the eastern sky. Eveline Annersly said nothing, for she could feel that her companion was trembling, and hear her catch her breath. Carrie stopped when they reached the homestead, and looked eastward with tear-dimmed eyes.
"Ah," she said, "I wonder why this favour was shown me. I felt I had ruined Charley a little while ago."
Then she pulled herself together. "Aunt Eveline," she said softly, "did you ever hate and despise yourself?"
Eveline Annersly said nothing, but she smiled with comprehension in her eyes, for she understood what was in Carrie Leland's mind.