"Two busy people that don't like to be idle."
"Ah! well, go on, you make-believes; mind and be home by sundown, and don't lose yourselves." Thus he admonished us; then he went his way, and we ours.
"Sundown is a long time, isn't it, Nell?" remarked Jemmy; "and we're not such sillies as to lose ourselves."
"No; uncle doesn't know how wise we are," I answered; and then we travelled on all through the rich, ripe harvest-glory of cornfields.
But the harvest folk seemed very far off; the silent fields lay basking in the sunshine, with the lengthening shadows stretching athwart them, some with the golden grain cut and ready for carting, some still standing awaiting the sickle. But no happy toilers were to be seen. Yes, we alighted upon one, a lad sitting manufacturing a whistle-pipe, and watching some sheep wandering in a field, where the wheat had been reaped and gleaned.
"Where are the harvest folk?" questioned Jemmy, with dignity.
"Harvest folk, young sir! That's a wide question, 'cause them's everywhere," replied the lad, with a grin.
"I don't see them," was the reply.
"I'm a harvest folk, and so is them—them's havin' their harvest," saying which the boy jerked his thumb in the direction of the sheep.
"They're not folk, they are sheep," dissented Jemmy, with scorn.