So the long forenoon slipped away. At times it seemed endless, and yet
we were surprised when we heard the bell from the house (what a sound it
was!) and we left our cutting in the middle of the field, nor waited for
another stroke.
"Hungry, Dick?" I asked.
"Hungry!" exclaimed Dick with all the eloquence of a lengthy oration
crowded into one word.
So we drifted through the orchard, and it was good to see the house with
smoke in the kitchen chimney, and the shade of the big maple where it
rested upon the porch. And not far from the maple we could see our
friendly pump with the moist boards of the well-cover in front of it. I
cannot tell you how good it looked as we came in from the hot, dry
fields.
"After you," says Dick.
I gave my sleeves another roll upward and unbuttoned and turned in the
moist collar of my shirt. Then I stooped over and put my head under the
pump spout.
"Pump, Dick," said I.
And Dick pumped.
"Harder, Dick," said I in a strangled voice.
And Dick pumped still harder, and presently I came up gasping with my
head and hair dripping with the cool water. Then I pumped for Dick.
"Gee, but that's good," says Dick.
Harriet came out with clean towels, and we dried ourselves, and talked
together in low voices.
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