"It's much the same here. People come from Buffalo and Cleveland to 'work in grapes' as they call it."
"I should think it would be pretty hard work."
"It must be, for the picker has to be on his feet all day, but he is paid according to the amount he picks, so his employer does not lose if he sits down to rest occasionally or stops to look over at the lake."
Mrs. Emerson made a gesture that caused them all to turn their heads in the direction they were leaving.
"What is it, Grandmother? A cloud?" asked Helen.
Grandmother smiled and shook her head.
"Look again," she insisted.
"I see, I see," cried Ethel Brown. "The front part is water, blue water, and that's Canada way, way off beyond."
Sure enough it was, for the car had climbed so high that they could look right over Westfield to the vineyards that lay between the railroad track and the lake, and then on across the water to the dim coast line of another country.
"There's a steamer! Oh, see, Mother," cried Roger, pointing to a feather of black smoke that hung against the sky.