hay-field with them. He was inclined to be cross at being left dozing
while the work began.

"I call that shabby mean," he protested. "Why couldn't you wake a
fellow up? I guess I'd like a hand in helping the old man out, as well
as either of you."

"Wake you up!" laughed Kent. "Didn't I tickle the soles of your feet?
Didn't I pinch you? What more do you want?"

"You wouldn't wake up, Jot," Old Tilly said cheerfully. "I took a hand
at it myself, but nothing this side of a brass band would 've done it
this morning. We couldn't bring that in, you know, for fear of waking
the folks. So Kent wrote you a letter."

The work went on splendidly. They were all in fine haying trim, and the
cocks in the rough little field were tossed briskly into the rack.
There were three loads, and the last one was safely stowed in the haymow
before the little old lady in the house had stirred up her breakfast
cake.

[Illustration: They were all in fine haying trim.]

"I hope she won't discover anything before we get away," Old Tilly said.
"It would be such fun to have it a reg'lar surprise!"

"Wouldn't it!" cried Jot.

"But she might think somebody'd come along in the night and stole it,
don't you see?" Kent objected.