You can
set a chair for him at the table."
"All right, Silas. He don't look very old, though."
"No, ma'am. I ain't twenty-one yet,"
answered Carl, who was really sixteen.
"I shouldn't say you was. You ain't no
signs of a mustache."
"I keep it short, ma'am, in warm weather," said Carl.
"It don't dull a razor any to cut it in cold
weather, does it?" asked the farmer, chuckling
at his joke.
"Well, no, sir; I can't say it does."
It was a boiled dinner that the farmer's
wife provided, corned beef and vegetables, but
the plebeian meal seemed to Carl the best he
ever ate. Afterwards there was apple pudding,
to which he did equal justice.
"I never knew work improved a fellow's
appetite so," reflected the young traveler.
"I never ate with so much relish at home."
After dinner they went back to the field
and worked till the supper hour, five o'clock.
By that time all the hay had been put into the barn.
"We've done a good day's work," said the
farmer, in a tone of satisfaction, "and only
just in time. Do you see that dark cloud?"
"Yes, sir."
"In half an hour there'll be rain, or I'm mistaken.
Old Job Hagar is right after all."
The farmer proved a true prophet. In half
an hour, while they were at the supper table,
the rain began to come down in large drops
--forming pools in the hollows of the ground,
and drenching all exposed objects with the
largesse of the heavens.
"Where war you a-goin' to-night?" asked the farmer.
"I don't know, sir."
"I was thinkin' that I'd give you a night's
lodgin' in place of the fifteen cents I agreed
to pay you.
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