On came the mower in mighty sweeps, cutting the swath clean out to the end.
“Well done!” cried the girl. “You'll be cutting off Long John's heels in a year or so.”
“A year or so! If I can't do it to-day I never can. But I don't want to blow.”
“You needn't. They're all talking about you, with your binding and pitching and cradling, and what not.”
“They are, are they? Who is good enough to waste breath on me?”
“Oh, everybody. The McKenzie girls were just telling me the other day.”
“Oh, pshaw! I ran away from their crowd, but that's nothing.”
“And I suppose you have not an idea how nice you look as you go swinging along?”
“Do I? That's the only time then.”
“Oh, now you're fishing, and I'm not going to bite. Where did you learn the scythe?”