"What crops?"

"Well, Eve just now been gathering in one of them. What do you think of
the value of the fleabane, and the daisies, and the yellow five-finger
in that field?"

"Huh!" said Horace.

"Well, I've just been cropping them. And have you observed the wind in
the grass--and those shadows along the southern wall? Aren't they
valuable?"

"Huh!" said Horace.

"I've rarely seen anything more beautiful," I said, "than this field
and the view across it--I'm taking that crop now, and later I shall
gather in the rowen of goldenrod and aster, and the red and yellow of
the maple trees--and store it all away in _my_ bank--to live on next
winter."

It was some time before either of us spoke again, but I could see from
the corner of my eye that mighty things were going on inside of Horace;
and suddenly he broke out into a big laugh and clapped his knee with his
hand in a way he has.

"Is that all!" said Horace.

I think it only confirmed him in the light esteem in which he held me.
Though I showed him unmeasured wealth in his own fields, ungathered