"There are some men coming," announced Bess, looking out through the big doors into a mist of rain.
"The haymakers," announced Cora. "They were getting in the crop, but the rain didn't let them finish. See how they're running."
"What shall we do when they come in?" inquired Belle, anxiety depicted on her face.
"Why, nothing, I should say," replied Cora. "There is plenty of room for them and us, I'm sure, even if our cars are rather large. We won't eat the men, and I hope they won't eat us."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Belle, but Bess laughed.
The first to reach the barn was a very tall farmer, of the type designated as lean and lanky. He was headed straight for the open doors, his head bent down to avoid the pelting drops, and he did not see the cars and the young ladies until he had nearly collided with Cora. Then he straightened up suddenly, and the look of astonishment on his face made Cora want to laugh, only she felt, under the circumstances, that she did not dare.
"Wa'al, I'll be gum-swizzled!" exclaimed the farmer. "What's this, anyhow? Auto-mobiles? As I live! Wa'al, I swan t' goodness! An' gals a-drivin' of 'em! Ho! ho! Wa'al, that's what I call rich—yes, sir, rich!"
A fringe of curious haymakers gathered behind the one who had entered first.
"We only came in out of the rain," explained Cora, who was looking her prettiest in the confusion. "We hope we're not in the way."
"Oh, you're welcome," the man hastened to say. "As welcome as—wa'al, a heap sight more welcome than this thunderstorm is. We calcalated t' git all th' hay in, but we didn't quite make out. We've got lots of room here, you see. There ain't another barn in all Woodbine that'd take a locomotive like that in it," and he walked around Cora's big car, eying it curiously.