They moved on in silence up the field.
"Where'd you learn to handle that fork, sonny?" another voice shouted, as they neared the farther wall.
"In Vermont," laughed Ted.
"I judged as much," grunted the speaker. "They don't train up farmers of your size in this part of the world."
Ted flushed with pleasure and for the first time he stopped work and mopped the perspiration from his forehead. He was hot and thirsty but he found himself strangely exhilarated by the exercise and the sweet morning air and sunshine. Again he took up his fork and tossed the newly cut grass up into the light, spreading it on the ground with a methodical sweep of his young arm. The sun had risen higher now and its dazzling brilliance poured all about him. Up and down the meadow he went and presently he was surprised to find himself alone near the point from which he had started. His fellow-laborers were no longer in sight. The field was very still and because it was, Ted began to whistle softly to himself.
He was startled to hear a quiet laugh at his elbow.
"Don't you ever eat anything, kid?"
Mr. Wharton was standing beside him, a flicker of amusement in his gray eyes.
"I didn't know it was noon," gasped Ted.
"We'll have to tie an alarm clock on you," chuckled the manager. "The gang stopped work a quarter of an hour ago."