"And I don't want to, either," John declared. "It is hard enough work
to sow and reap and thresh wheat in hot weather like this without
sweatin' over fifteen able-bodied men that are jowerin' about a pile
no bigger'n that."

Dolly glanced at the round rosewood clock on the plastered wall and
reached for the bell-handle. "My time's up," she said. "I wish I could
stop my ears with cotton. They always come in like a drove of iron-
shod mules on a wooden bridge."

"Your pa's got a piece o' news this mornin'." Webb knew his words
would stay the hand now resting on the bell.

"What is it?" Dolly inquired.

"He got a letter from Mr. Mostyn; he's comin' up to board at the house
for a month."

The pretty hand dropped from the bell-handle. Dolly was staring at the
speaker in surprise. She said nothing, though he was sure a flush was
creeping into her cheeks.

"I sorter thought that 'ud stagger you," Webb said with a significant
grin.

"Me? I don't see why." Dolly was fighting for perfect composure under
trying circumstances, considering her uncle's mischievous stare.

"Well, I do, if you don't, Miss Dolly," he tittered. "You wasn't a bit