"Nothin' much, but it was annoyin'. We had some machines crippled, an' it took most of the day to fix them.… We've got a couple of hundred hands at work. Some of them are I.W.W.'s, that's sure. But they all swear they are not an' we have no way to prove it. An' we couldn't catch them at their tricks.… All the same, we've got half your big wheat-field cut. A thousand acres, Lenore!… Some of the wheat 'll go forty bushels to the acre, but mostly under that."
"Better than last harvest," Lenore replied, gladly. "We are lucky.… Father, did you hear any news from the Bend?"
"Sure did," he replied, and patted her head. "They sent me a message up from Vale.… Young Dorn wired from Kilo he'd be here to-day."
"To-day!" echoed Lenore, and her heart showed a tendency to act strangely.
"Yep. He'll be here soon," said Anderson, cheerfully. "Tell your mother. Mebbe he'll come for supper. An' have a room ready for him."
"Yes, father," replied Lenore.
"Wal, if Dorn sees you as you look now—sleeves rolled up, apron on, flour on your nose—a regular farmer girl—an' sure huggable, as Jake says—you won't have no trouble winnin' him."
"How you talk!" exclaimed Lenore, with burning cheeks. She ran to her room and made haste to change her dress.
But Dorn did not arrive in time for supper. Eight o'clock came without his appearing, after which, with keen disappointment, Lenore gave up expecting him that night. She was in her father's study, helping him with the harvest notes and figures, when Jake knocked and entered.
"Dorn's here," he announced.