a girl say a fellow's fine-looking without being soft about
it?" she continued. "As for Jim--"

But at this moment the conversation was cut short by the scraping of
heavy boots on the ploughshare nailed to the block at the door, and
John Harris, followed by Allan and the hired man, Jim, walked into
the kitchen. The farmer's frame was heavier than in his younger days,
and his hair, too, was streaked with grey, but every muscle in his
great body seemed to bulge with strength. His face was brown with the
prairie sun and wind of twenty-five summers, and lines of worry and
care had cut their tracings about the mouth and eyes. Beside him
stood Allan, his only son, straighter and lither of figure, but
almost equally powerful. The younger man was, indeed, a replica of
the older, and although they had their disagreements, constant
association had developed a fine comradeship, and, on the part of the
son, a loyalty equal to any strain. The hired man, Jim, was lighter
and finer of feature, and his white teeth gleamed against the
nut-brown of his face in a quiet smile that refused to be displaced
in any emergency, and at times left the beholder in considerable
doubt as to the real emotions working behind.

The men all wore blue overalls, dark blue or grey shirts, and heavy
boots. They were guiltless of coat or vest, and tossed their light
straw hats on the water-bench as they passed. There was a quick
splashing of greasy hands at the wash-basin, followed by a more
effectual rubbing on a towel made from a worn-out grain sack. The
hired man paused to change the water and wash his face, but the
others proceeded at once to the table, where no time was lost in
ceremony. Meat, potatoes, and boiled cabbage were supplied in
generous quantities on large platters. A fine stack of white bread
tiered high on a plate, and a mountainous pile of Mary Harris's
famous fresh buns towered on another. All hands ate at the table
together, although the hired man was usually last to sit down, owing
to his perverse insistence upon washing his face and combing his hair
before each meal. Although his loss of time sometimes irritated
Harris, he bore it in silence. There was no better farm hand in the
country-side than Jim Travers, and, as Harris often remarked,
employers nowadays couldn't afford to be too particular about
trifles.

Harris helped himself generously to meat and vegetables and, having
done so, passed the platters to his son, and in this wa