Amzi and Fred dealt in technicalities. The green of young wheat caught the eye in the distances. These were Amzi's acres; the Holton farm lay beyond—the land that had been Fred's. In February, Phil and Amzi had driven out one afternoon and had found Fred sowing clover seed over the snow-covered wheat in his own field. Her imagination took fire at all these processes. "A calendar might be laid out in great squares upon the earth," she had written in her notebook, "and the months would tell their own stories." It was all a great wonder, that man had learned so perfectly how to draw from the mute soil its sweetness and vigor. Nothing man did seemed more interesting than this tilling and sowing. She noted how even snow had its use in catching and holding seed against the wind, and watched the sower marking his own progress and regulating the distribution by his tracks. Ultimately the clover would give its own life to nourish and strengthen the wheat—these things kindled her fancy. Here was poetry in the making, with suns and frosts, rains and snows taking their part in it. And Fred felt it too; she knew that. In his shy, guarded way he had spoken of it. But to-day he was not a dreamer but a man of action.
"Got all the help you want, Fred?" Amzi was asking.
"Yes, sir. No troubles. I'm using my old place for a boarding-house for the hands. Suppose you won't stay for supper?" he suggested, a little perfunctorily.
"Just because you're so enthusiastic, we will! But we've brought our own fodder—Phil packed the hamper; enough for a couple of regiments. We'll meet you at my house at supper-time and have an indoors picnic."
They waited to watch him start the team. Phil took the wheel, and as they rolled away Lois and Amzi exchanged a glance.
"You trust him?" she asked, glancing meaningly at Phil's back.
"Thunder!" said Amzi; "I don't know about that."
"It might be worse," Lois replied, and her brother looked at her in surprise.
"He's a straightforward, manly fellow; seems to have escaped the family curse. It must be this"—Lois indicated the fields—"that makes the difference. There's a moral influence in it; and," she added with a smile, "there's always a market for corn."
"He's as square a chap as they make 'em, but as for that—" and he nodded towards Phil.