The Doctor [34]
it, flung it over his shoulder, and stood with his hands on his knees, his breath coming in sobbing gasps.
For a few minutes the men went wild. Barney stepped to Dick's side, and patting him on the shoulder, said, "Great man, Dick! But I was a fool to let you!"
"That's what you were!" cried the "Old King," slapping Dick on the back, "but there's the greatest day's work ever done in these parts. The wheat's yours," he said, turning to Alec, "but begad! I wish it was goin' to them that won it!"
"An' that's where it is going," said Alec, "every blamed sheaf of it, to Ben's gang."
"We'll take what's coming to us," said Barney shortly.
"I told yeh so," said Ben regretfully.
"Why, don't you know it was for you I took the bet?" said Alec, angry that he should be balked in his good intention to help the boys.
"We'll take our wages," repeated Barney in a tone that settled the controversy. "The wheat is not ours."
"Then it ain't mine," said Alec, disgusted, remembering in how great peril his $50 had been.
"Well, boys," said the "Old King," "it ain't mine. We'll divide it in three."
"We'll take our wages," said Barney again, in sullen determination.
"Confound the boy!" cried the "Old King." "What'll we do with the wheat? I say, we'll give it to Ben; he's had hard luck this year."
"No, by the jumpin' Jemima Jebbs!" said Ben, stumping over to Barney's side. "I stand with the boss. I take my wages."
"Well, dog-gone you all! Will you take double pay, then? There's two days' good work there. And the rest we'll give to the church. Good thing the minister ain't here or he'd kick, too!"
"But," added the "Old King," turning to his son Sam, "after this you crawl into your shell when there's any blowin' bein' done about Ben's gang."
IX
LOVE'S TANGLED WAYS
The mill lane was prinked with all the June flowers. Over the snake fence massed the clover, red and white. Through the rails peeped the thistle bloom, pink and purple, and higher up above the top rail the white crest of the dogwood slowly nodded in the breeze this sweet summer day. In the clover the bumblebees, the crickets, and the grasshoppers boomed, chirped, crackled, shouting their joy to be alive in so good a place and on so good a day. Above, the sky was blue, pure blue, and all the bluer for the specks of cloud that hung, still-poised like white-winged birds, white against the blue. Last evening's rain had washed the world clean. The sky, the air, the flowers, the clover, red and white, the kindly grass that ran green everywhere under foot, the dusty road, all were washed clean. In the elm bunches by the fence, in the maples and thorns, the birds, their summer preoccupations forgotten at the bidding of this new washed day, recalled their spring songs and poured them forth with fine careless courage.
In tune to this brave symphony of colour and song, and down this flower-prinked, song-filled, clean washed, grassy lane stepped Dick this summer morning, stepped with the spring and balance of the well-trained athlete, stepped with the step of a man whose heart makes him merry music. A clean-looking man was Dick, harmonious with the day and with the lane down which he stepped. Against the grey of his suit his hands, his face, and his neck, where the negligee shirt fell away wide, revealing his strong, full curves spreading to the shoulders, all showed ruddy brown. He was a man good to look upon, with his springy step, his tan skin, his clear eye, but chiefly because out of his clear eye a soul looked forth clean and unafraid upon God's good world of wholesome growing things.
From his three years of 'varsity life he came back unspoiled to his boyhood's love of the open sky and of all things under it. He had just come through a great year in college, his third, the greatest in many ways of the college course. His class had thrust him into a man's place of leadership in that world where only manhood counts, and he had "made good." In the literary, in the gym, on the campus he had made and held high place,
For a few minutes the men went wild. Barney stepped to Dick's side, and patting him on the shoulder, said, "Great man, Dick! But I was a fool to let you!"
"That's what you were!" cried the "Old King," slapping Dick on the back, "but there's the greatest day's work ever done in these parts. The wheat's yours," he said, turning to Alec, "but begad! I wish it was goin' to them that won it!"
"An' that's where it is going," said Alec, "every blamed sheaf of it, to Ben's gang."
"We'll take what's coming to us," said Barney shortly.
"I told yeh so," said Ben regretfully.
"Why, don't you know it was for you I took the bet?" said Alec, angry that he should be balked in his good intention to help the boys.
"We'll take our wages," repeated Barney in a tone that settled the controversy. "The wheat is not ours."
"Then it ain't mine," said Alec, disgusted, remembering in how great peril his $50 had been.
"Well, boys," said the "Old King," "it ain't mine. We'll divide it in three."
"We'll take our wages," said Barney again, in sullen determination.
"Confound the boy!" cried the "Old King." "What'll we do with the wheat? I say, we'll give it to Ben; he's had hard luck this year."
"No, by the jumpin' Jemima Jebbs!" said Ben, stumping over to Barney's side. "I stand with the boss. I take my wages."
"Well, dog-gone you all! Will you take double pay, then? There's two days' good work there. And the rest we'll give to the church. Good thing the minister ain't here or he'd kick, too!"
"But," added the "Old King," turning to his son Sam, "after this you crawl into your shell when there's any blowin' bein' done about Ben's gang."
IX
LOVE'S TANGLED WAYS
The mill lane was prinked with all the June flowers. Over the snake fence massed the clover, red and white. Through the rails peeped the thistle bloom, pink and purple, and higher up above the top rail the white crest of the dogwood slowly nodded in the breeze this sweet summer day. In the clover the bumblebees, the crickets, and the grasshoppers boomed, chirped, crackled, shouting their joy to be alive in so good a place and on so good a day. Above, the sky was blue, pure blue, and all the bluer for the specks of cloud that hung, still-poised like white-winged birds, white against the blue. Last evening's rain had washed the world clean. The sky, the air, the flowers, the clover, red and white, the kindly grass that ran green everywhere under foot, the dusty road, all were washed clean. In the elm bunches by the fence, in the maples and thorns, the birds, their summer preoccupations forgotten at the bidding of this new washed day, recalled their spring songs and poured them forth with fine careless courage.
In tune to this brave symphony of colour and song, and down this flower-prinked, song-filled, clean washed, grassy lane stepped Dick this summer morning, stepped with the spring and balance of the well-trained athlete, stepped with the step of a man whose heart makes him merry music. A clean-looking man was Dick, harmonious with the day and with the lane down which he stepped. Against the grey of his suit his hands, his face, and his neck, where the negligee shirt fell away wide, revealing his strong, full curves spreading to the shoulders, all showed ruddy brown. He was a man good to look upon, with his springy step, his tan skin, his clear eye, but chiefly because out of his clear eye a soul looked forth clean and unafraid upon God's good world of wholesome growing things.
From his three years of 'varsity life he came back unspoiled to his boyhood's love of the open sky and of all things under it. He had just come through a great year in college, his third, the greatest in many ways of the college course. His class had thrust him into a man's place of leadership in that world where only manhood counts, and he had "made good." In the literary, in the gym, on the campus he had made and held high place,