At about three o’clock, Mr. Sumption stood up and scanned the fields under his hand like Elijah’s servant watching for rain. Then he gave a shout that made everyone start and straighten their backs.
“Lo! the Lord is on our side—behold more labourers for the harvest.”
Two figures were coming down the field from Worge—Ivy Beatup and a soldier. Ivy wore a pink cotton dress, belling out all round her with the wind and flapping against the soldier’s legs. She also carried unexpectedly a pink parasol.
“Thought I’d come over and see you all!” she bawled as soon as she was within earshot. “This is Sergeant Eric Staples from Canada.”
... Canada! Then no doubt he knew a bit about harvesting. Harry went forward to meet them.
“Mother toald us you’d half the Sunk to reap before the weather,” said Ivy, at closer range, “so I said we’d come and give you a hand, surelye.”
“We’ll be unaccountable glad to have you both—the rain’s blowing up and we’re short of workers.”
“I’m on it, as the boys say, and so’s the Sergeant, I reckon.”
“Sure,” said Sergeant Staples, staring round him.