“Never mind my hat. I’ll do anything to help you, if you can only go to the circus.”
“Well, you count the rows I’ve got to do between here and the fence.”
Kate disappeared behind Frank’s back, and he hoed away as fast as ever he could, until she returned and said:
“Frank, there’s twenty-seven rows.”
“Never can do it in the world! There’s ninety-three hills in every single row.”
“Won’t it be nice to help you pick the corn! Papa won’t call that having help about it, I know. O I wish it was time for harvest! Won’t it be just nice to have piles and piles of great ears, all your own! You’ll be most rich, won’t you, Frank?” cried Kate, joyously clapping her hands before the imaginary heaps of corn.
“See here, Kate, if I keep the corn I’ve got to stay here and keep on hoeing it all day and half of to-morrow, at least.”
“Did papa say so?”
“He said I must keep my engagement with him, or give up the field and call John in to finish it. You know, Kate, it ought to have got hoed more’n a week ago, only I went fishing and everything.”
“Yes, I know, Frank, there’s always something happening to take us off, and to-morrow’s the picnic.”