“I generally am busy,” he admitted. “These horses have been at it since sun-up, and they’re rather played out now. I’ll talk to you as long as you will let me after supper, which will soon be ready.”
Agatha noticed that though the near horse’s coat was foul with dust and sweat he laid his brown hand upon it, and it seemed to her that the gentleness with which he did it was very suggestive.
Mrs. Hastings, who had been scrutinizing the field, asked, “What’s to be the result of all this plowing if we have harvest frost or the market goes against you?”
“Quite a big deficit,” answered Wyllard cheerfully.
“And that doesn’t cause you any anxiety?”
“I’ll have had some amusement for my money.”
Mrs. Hastings turned to Agatha. “He calls working from sunrise until it’s dark, and afterwards now and then, amusement!” She looked back at Wyllard. “I believe it isn’t quite easy for you to hold your back as straight as you are doing, and that off-horse certainly looks as if it wanted to lie down.”
Wyllard laughed. “It won’t until after supper, anyway. There are two more rows of furrows still to do.”
“I suppose that is a hint!” Mrs. Hastings glanced at Agatha when the wagon jolted on.
“That man,” she said, “is a great favorite of mine. For one thing, he’s fastidious, though he’s fortunately very far from perfect in some respects. He has a red-hot temper, which now and then runs away with him.”