ground isn't very hard, you don't need to use any strength at all on the
downward stroke. Let Old Mother Gravity do the work. If you aim it
right, its own weight is enough for ordinary garden soil, that's not in
sod. Now watch."

She swung the heavy tool up, shining in the bright air, all her tall,
supple body drawn up by the swing of her arms, cried out, "See, now I
relax and just let it fall," and bending with the downward rush of the
blade, drove it deep into the brown earth. A forward thrust of the long
handle ("See, you use it like a lever," she explained), a small
earthquake in the soil, and the tool was free for another stroke.

At her feet was a pool of freshly stirred fragments of earth, loose,
friable, and moist, from which there rose in a gust of the spring
breeze, an odor unknown to the old man and thrilling.

He stooped down, thrust his hand into the open breast of earth, and took
up a handful of the soil which had lain locked in frost for half a year
and was now free for life again. Over it his eyes met those of the
beautiful woman beside him.

She nodded. "Yes, there's nothing like it, the smell of the first earth
stirred every spring."

He told her, wistfully, "It's the very first stirred in all my life."

They had both lowered their voices instinctively, seeing Vincent emerge
from the house-door and saunter towards them immaculate in a gray suit.
Mr. Welles was not at all glad to see him at this moment. "Here, let me
have the mattock," he said, taking it out of Mrs. Crittenden's hands, "I