golden ears are piling up under my magic skill, and there is peace.
As I take down another bundle from the shock I descry what seems to
be a sort of procession wending its way through the orchard. Then
the rail fence is surmounted, and the procession solemnly moves
across the meadow. In time the president and an assortment of
faculty members stand before me, bedight in caps and gowns. I note
that their gowns are liberally garnished with Spanish needles and
cockleburs, and their shoes give evidence of contact with elemental
mud. But then and there they confer upon me the degree of bachelor
of arts _magna cum laude_. But for this interruption I could have
finished husking that row before the dinner-horn blew.




CHAPTER III

BROWN

My neighbor came in again this evening, not for anything in
particular, but unconsciously proving that men are gregarious
animals. I like this neighbor. His name is Brown. I like the name
Brown, too. It is easy to pronounce. By a gentle crescendo you go
to the summit and then coast to the bottom. The name Brown, when
pronounced, is a circumflex accent. Now, if his name had happened to
be Moriarity I never could be quite sure when I came to the end in
pronouncing it. I'm glad his name is not Moriarity--not because it
is Irish, for I like the Irish; so does Brown, for he is married to
one of them. Any one who has been in Cork and heard the fine old
Irishman say in his musical and inimitable voice, "Tis a lovely dye,"