the field with his men, loading an enormous basket-wagon with corn-stalks.
At Mr. Ringgan's shout he got over the fence and came to the wagon-side.
His face showed sense and shrewdness, but nothing of the open nobility of
mien which nature had stamped upon that of his brother.

[Illustration: She made a long job of her bunch of holly.]

"Fine morning, eh?" said he. "I'm getting in my corn stalks."

"So I see," said Mr. Ringgan. "How do you find the new way of curing
them answer?"

"Fine as ever you see. Sweet as a nut. The cattle are mad after them. How
are you going to be off for fodder this winter?"

"It's more than I can tell you," said Mr. Ringgan. "There ought to be
more than plenty; but Didenhover contrives to bring everything out at the
wrong end. I wish I was rid of him."

"He'll never get a berth with _me_, I can tell you," said uncle
Joshua laughing.

"Brother," said Mr. Ringgan, lowering his tone again, "have you any loose
cash you could let me have for six months or so?"

Uncle Joshua took a meditative look down the road, turned a quid of
tobacco in his cheek, and finally brought his eyes again to Mr. Ringgan
and answered.

"Well, I don't see as I can," said he. "You see Josh is just a going to