"I do my best to please YOU, Dad!" she said, gently, yet with
emphasis.

He was silent, sucking at his pipe-stem. Just then a whistle
struck the air like the near note of a thrush. It came from the
man on top of the haywaggon. He had paused in his labour, and his
face was turned towards the old man and the girl. It was a
handsome face, lighted by a smile which seemed to have caught a
reflex of the sun.

"All ready, Uncle!" he shouted--"Ready and waiting!"

The old man drew his pipe from his mouth.

"There you are!" he said, addressing the girl in a softer tone,--
"He's wanting you."

She moved away at once. As she went, the men who were raking in
the last sweepings of the hay stood aside for her to pass. One of
them put a ladder against the wheel of the waggon.

"Going up, miss?" he asked, with a cheerful grin.

She smiled a response, but said nothing.

The young fellow on top of the load looked down. His blue eyes
sparkled merrily as he saw her.

"Are you coming?" he called.