Will was very happy in Its quiet way. He enjoyed the smooth roll
of his great muscles, the sense of power he felt in his hands as he
lifted, turned, and swung the heavy sheaves two by two down upon
the table, where the band cutter madly slashed away. His frame,
sturdy rather than tall, was nevertheless lithe, and he made a fine
figure to look at, so Agnes thought, as she came out a moment and
bowed and smiled to both the young men.

This scene, one of the jolliest and most sociable of the western
farm, had a charm quite aside from human companionship. The
beautiful yellow straw entering the cylinder; the clear
yellow-brown wheat pulsing out at the side; the broken straw,
chaff, and dust puffing out on the great stacker; the cheery
whistling and calling of the driver; the keen, crisp air, and the
bright sun somehow weirdly suggestive of the passage of time.

Will and Agnes had arrived at a tacit understanding of mutual love
only the night before, and Will was power-fully moved to glance
often toward the house, but feared somehow the jokes of his
companions. He worked on, therefore, methodically, eagerly; but
his thoughts were on the future-the rustle of the oak tree nearby,
the noise of whose sere leaves he could distinguish beneath the
booming snarl of the machine; on the sky, where great fleets of
clouds were sailing on the rising wind, like merchantmen bound to
some land of love and plenty.

When the Dingmans first came in, only a couple of years before,
Agnes had been at once surrounded by a swarm of suitors. Her
pleasant face and her abounding good nature made her an instant