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He saw her in the form of acres of land, live stock, farm buildings, and money in the bank. "Molasses," he thought; "yes, sir, molasses. Maple sugar." But when he looked at his son Thomas, he frowned. "Go on," he wanted to say, "go on, you slowpoke." Farmer Barly also frowned at Thomas Frye. He felt that he was being hurried. "She's well enough where she is," he thought. "She's young yet.
Slowly, to the tonkle of herds in pasture, the crowing of cocks, and the thin, clear clang of the smithy, the full sun sank in the west. For a time all was quiet, as night, the shadow of the earth, crept between man and God. After supper Thomas Frye, in his father's wagon, went to call on Anna Barly.
It was during the march to Barly that the men were told, during a halt at midnight, that victory was certain, and that Marshal Foch had ordered everyone to advance. This news instantly raised the morale of every one, and the rest of the journey seemed more pleasant than usual. A day's halt took place at Barly, where the surplus personnel was left while the fighting men left for Bellacourt.
The two hired men on Barly's farm rose in the dark and crept downstairs. By sun-up, Farmer Barly was after them, in his brown overalls; he came clumping into the barn, dusty with last year's hay, and peered about him in the yellow light. He opened the harness room, and took out harness for the farm wagons; he went to ask if the horses had been watered.
Crabbe were disputing a game of checkers. They sat opposite each other, stared at the checkerboard, and stroked their chins. Farmer Barly stood watching them. He puffed on his pipe, and nodded his head at every move. But all the while he was thinking about Anna. "Pretty near time she was settling down," he thought. Mr. Frye jumped over two, and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile.
Jeminy, who was seated on his coat by the side of the road, got up with a smile. "Well, Anna Barly," he said. "Ak," she whispered, clapping both hands to her mouth, "how you scared me." She could feel her heart beating with fright; her lips trembled, her eyes filled with tears. She stood staring at Mr. Jeminy, who stared gravely back at her.
Then he winked at Mr. Barly, as though to say: "I'm just a leetle too smart for him." Farmer Barly winked back. It amused him to have Mr. Frye beaten unfairly. Mr. Frye wanted to get his daughter away from him. "Well," he said in his mind, to Mr. Frye, "just go easy. Just go easy, Mr. Frye." And he winked again at Mr. Crabbe. "That's right," he said, "give it to him." When Mr.
Jeminy. "I don't know what got into me," she said. "I don't know what you'll think." "I think," declared Mr. Jeminy, looking up at the sky, "I think why, I think this wet weather will pass, Anna Barly. Yes, to-morrow will be cold and clear." Anna did not answer him. She was tired; she had played, she had cried, now she wanted to rest. In Frye's General Store, Mr. Frye and Mr.
"A touch of influenza," answered Miss Beal, "so Sara Barly says. Lord save us: a big healthy girl like Anna." "It's the healthy ones who get it," said Mrs. Grumble with a sigh. "God moves in a mysterious way." "His wonders to perform." Mrs. Grumble arose and placed a kettle of water on the stove. "We'll have some tea," she said, "and I'll cook you some fritters. Jeminy is out.
And nyghe that cytee of Tyberie, is the hille, where oure Lord fedde 5 thousand persones, with 5 barly loves and 2 fisshes. In that cytee, a man cast an brennynge dart in wratthe aftir oure Lord, and the hed smot in to the eerthe, and wax grene, and it growed to a gret tree; and zit it growethe, and the bark there of is alle lyk coles.
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