And
that reminds me, we've not heard your family name yet."
"Flint."
"Jacob FLINT!" exclaimed the farmer's wife, with sudden
agitation.
Jacob was scared and troubled. They had heard of him, he thought,
and who knew what ridiculous stories? Susan noticed an anxiety on
his face which she could not understand, but she unknowingly came
to his relief.
"Why, mother," she asked, "do you know Jacob's family?"
"No, I think not," said her mother, "only somebody of the name,
long ago."
His offer, however, was gratefully accepted. The bright, hot
summer days came and went, but no flower of July ever opened as
rapidly and richly and warmly as his chilled, retarded nature. New
thoughts and instincts came with every morning's sun, and new
conclusions were reached with every evening's twilight. Yet as the
wheat harvest drew towards the end, he felt that he must leave the
place. The month of absence had gone by, he scarce knew how. He
was free to return home, and, though he might offer to bridge over
the gap between wheat and oats, as he had already done between hay
and wheat, he imagined the family might hesitate to accept such an
offer.
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