JUNE RAINS— HAYING— HARVEST 193 



" Do show me which is which," said I, " and I'll 

 go out and weed." 



" My ! but you could never weed out that great 

 field. And there's wild oats, too, I guess. Father 

 says there always has been wild oats on this farm. 

 I guess you had better wait and let the grain knock 

 the weed out this year, and next year you'll be 

 summer-fallowing the field. But if you should do 

 any weeding — why, take out a grain-bag and take 

 the weed right off the land and burn it. It's 

 no use to leave it lying round in heaps. Father says 

 stinkweed comes up to seed every month." 



I did a little weeding, not much, as it seemed to 

 make no impression. As a direct result of that 

 afternoon's conversation I blocked my end of the 

 bridle-path through the field, under the impression 

 that if I was to be disgraced by weed, the eye should 

 not be allowed to see what the tongue should not 

 carry. 



I worked hard through June at the stoning, and 

 started to harrow, at first with only three sections 

 drawn by Dick and Nancy. From the beginning 

 I was perfectly happy working on the land, only I 

 wished it was some one else's turn to get those 

 tiresome three meals a day. I had conquered milk- 

 ing after a fashion. That is to say, I could extract 

 every drop of milk even from the hard cow, but it 

 still took a very long time ; forty minutes for two 

 cows, and Mabel Mazey could milk Molly dry in 

 five. I never overcame the difficulty of milking 

 with the left hand, and to this day get at least 

 seven-eighths of the milk with the right hand only, 

 to the horror of some of the ardent disciples of 

 method who have sojourned at my farm from^time 



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