"I think I understand it. All the talk about being equal is bosh, I think, but it is enough to make one act like sin to be treated as if one was of no account. But you boys ought to brace up and show what you call swells that you are better than they are. That's the way to get even with such people; be really nicer than they are."
Lyman looked admiringly at Gay. "You'd make anybody try," said he, "I never heard the minister say anything half as brightening-up like."
"What minister? The one that hangs out here all the time?"
"Yes."
"Of course he never said anything but his prayers! And I'll bet he says them looking in the glass. Why, he doesn't know the boys in his congregation—what kind of a father would a man be if he didn't know the children in his family? And a congregation is just a large family, that's all."
"But people say he's going to marry your Aunt Celia."
"That milk and water—mostly water—man? Not much, my boy! Aunt Celia's head is too level for that."
When Lyman was gone away Gay wondered if the gossip about his aunt and the minister was true. "If it is," he said to himself, "I'll never call him uncle; not even to please Aunt Celia. When they ask me I'll say—politely, of course, but so they'll know I mean it—'Do you think I'll call him uncle? Not much!'"
It was not until afternoon that Gay had an opportunity to join his friends in the hay-field. Once there he soon became the centre of attraction; the boys clustered round and were so delightfully cordial in their manners—Lyman had duly reported the conversation of the morning—that Gay was quite overcome and felt like telling the truth and having some kind of a real boy's game to knock the edge off their compliments. He did so far forget himself as to suggest leap frog, but the boys declined the honor, possibly from a sense of propriety. The boys were occasionally surprised by the freedom of Gay's manner, but as Robert said, later, when the subject was under discussion, "It isn't altogether Brown's manners that we're stuck on; it's her friendliness and because we know she is true blue."
Gay was introduced to the men in the fields, who showed their appreciation of the supposed "she" by inviting her to ride on the load of hay. Gay not only accepted the invitation but helped put the hay in the stable-driver's barn. It was a charming afternoon and the youthful haymakers enjoyed it.