“Them and their horses. Them blacks takes my eye.” And they all laughed.
The next morning, with Ted driving and Phil holding the plow, the boys travelled back and forth across the field, more than holding their own with the older man.
“They done fine, Joy,” declared her father, at dinner. “I wish they was my boys. You wouldn’t know this quarter in two year. I’m a gettin’ too old to work it properly, but they could. Seems though you young folks ought to be able to fix it somehow. E 1 and E 2 would make a splendid farm if they was joined.”
“Why, Daddy Jay! The idea of your saying such a thing!” exclaimed the girl, her face turning to a bright crimson.
Turning to his brother, Ted was amazed to see that he too was blushing, and he coughed impishly as he surprised an interchange of glances between Phil and Joy.
“Guess we may be able to arrange it, Mr. Jay,” he chuckled, whereat Phil and Joy became exceedingly interested in their food. “You old fox!” he cried, slapping his brother on his back, as they went out to hitch up the horses. “Now I understand why your head ached so you had to go back to the house yesterday and the day before, only you’ve located your trouble in the wrong organ. Go in and win. She’s a bully girl, and Momsy’ll like—”
“Oh, dry up!” snapped Phil. But though he obeyed, at intervals during the afternoon Ted gave vent to hearty chuckles.
“We’ll go over to our quarter tomorrow,” announced his brother, as they were preparing for bed.
“Why? I wouldn’t turn away from such a g—”
A swiftly thrown pillow, striking him full in the face, smothered the rest of the sentence, and before he could continue, Phil was saying in his most impressive manner: