After supper, the boys wandered out around the tiny farm. It was at best
a rocky, uneven place, but there were evidences of "pa's" hard work on
it. Most of the grass had been mowed and carried into the barn, but
there was one small field still dotted over with cocks of overripe hay.
Old Tilly strode over and examined it with an air of wisdom.

"Too ripe," he commented. "I guess it won't be worth getting in, if it
stays out here much longer."

"He meant to have it all in yesterday--she said he did. I mean that
little old lady said so," Jot remarked.

"Well, if it isn't all in to-morrow, it's a goner," Old Tilly said
decisively.

"Now, boys, there's lots o' good water out in the cistern," the old lady
said, when they came back. "I've put the towels handy in the shed. It
may be you'll sleep sounder if you have a nice sponge off."

Only too glad, the boys took to the shed, and then followed their guide
to the airy room waiting. How the pillows fitted a fellow's head! as
Jot said luxuriously. And the beds, how good they felt after those hard
church pews! They were sound asleep in a moment.

The little old lady stole in to look at them. She held the lamp high in
one hand and gazed down with wistful eyes into the three healthy brown
faces. When she went back to pa, her face was wet with a rain of tears.

"They look so good, pa, lyin' there!" she said brokenly. "An' you'd
ought to see how much like Joey the littlest one throws up his arm!"