THE TIMOTHY HAKVEST 233 



It was pretty of her to say that ; but what 

 else would one expect from Laura ? 



The twelve acres from which the fodder oats 

 had been cut were ploughed and fitted for sugar 

 beets and turnips. I was not at all certain that 

 the beets would do anything if sown so late, but 

 I was going to try. Of the turnips I could feel 

 more certain, for doth not the poet say : 



" The 25th day of July, 

 Sow your turnips, wet or dry" ? 



As the 25th fell on Sunday, I tried to placate the 

 agricultural poet by sowing half on the 24th and 

 the other half on the 26th, but it was no use. 

 Whether the turnip god was offended by the 

 fractured rule and refused his blessing, or whether 

 the dry August and September prevented full 

 returns, is more than I can say. Certain it is 

 that I had but a half crop of turnips and a beg- 

 garly batch of beets to comfort me and the hogs. 

 Some little consolation, however, was found in 

 Polly's joy over a small crop of currants which 

 her yearling bushes produced. I also heard 

 rumors of a few cherries which turned their red 

 cheeks to the sun for one happy day, and then 

 disappeared. Cock Robin's breast was red the 

 next morning, and on this circumstantial evi- 

 dence Polly accused him. He pleaded "not 

 guilty," and strutted on the lawn with his 

 thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and his 

 suspected breast as much in evidence as a pouter 



