I don't know that I ever told you, but my parents died within a year of
each other and left six of us to shift for ourselves. Our people
offered to take one here and there among them until we should all have
a place, but we refused to be raised on the halves and so arranged to
stay at Grandmother's and keep together. Well, we had no money to hire
men to do our work, so had to learn to do it ourselves. Consequently I
learned to do many things which girls more fortunately situated don't
even know have to be done. Among the things I learned to do was the way
to run a mowing-machine. It cost me many bitter tears because I got
sunburned, and my hands were hard, rough, and stained with machine oil,
and I used to wonder how any Prince Charming could overlook all that in
any girl he came to. For all I had ever read of the Prince had to do
with his "reverently kissing her lily-white hand," or doing some other
fool trick with a hand as white as a snowflake. Well, when my Prince
showed up he didn't lose much time in letting me know that "Barkis was
willing," and I wrapped my hands in my old checked apron and took him
up before he could catch his breath. Then there was no more mowing, and
I almost forgot that I knew how until Mr. Stewart got into such a
panic. If he put a man to mow, it kept them all idle at the stacker,
and he just couldn't get enough men. I was afraid to tell him I could
mow for fear he would forbid me to do so. But one morning, when he was
chasing a last hope of help, I went down to the barn, took out the
horses, and went to mowing. I had enough cut before he got back to show
him I knew how, and as he came back manless he was delighted as well as
surprised. I was glad because I really like to mow, and besides that, I
am adding feathers to my cap in a surprising way. When you see me again
you will think I am wearing a feather duster, but it is only that I
have been said to have almost as much sense as a "mon," and that is an
honor I never aspired to, even in my wildest dreams.