VII 



THE FROZEN HARVEST OF 1907 



In a way the actual coming of the frost was a positive 

 relief. The strain of suspense was over, the sword 

 had fallen and hope was dead. 



On the morning following the frost I stooked oats 

 and I hoped Si Booth would go out with the binder, 

 but he told me the heavy wheels would not turn over 

 the sodden ground, and that he doubted that he 

 would be able to start even on the morrow. How- 

 ever, on the next afternoon I called him in triumph 

 to hear the hum of my neighbour's binder ; but it 

 ceased almost as suddenly as it had started. 



" Couldn't travel I guess ; but it should be going 

 all right after to-day," said he. 



" It's Sunday to-morrow," I said regretfully, 

 " Have you any conscientious objection to harvesting 

 on Sunday ? " 



" No," said he, " I've no conscientious objection 

 to it I guess." 



" Neither have I," I agreed hopefully. " It is 

 preposterous to think that it is not the truest and 

 highest service to make every possible effort to 

 save the wheat of the world ; and after all, it is the 

 teaching of the One in whose honour the day is 

 kept, isn't it ? The beasts of the field had to be 

 helped, and for the hungry wheat was gathered, 



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