“Ineversawhertaketoanyonesoquick，“Laurasmiled。Howardnoticedherinparticularforthefirsttime。Shehadonacleancalicodressandaginghamapron，andshelookedstrongandfreshandhandsome。Herheadwasintellectual，hereyesfullofpower。
Sheseemedanxioustoremovetheimpressionofherunpleasantlooksandwordsthenightbefore。Indeed，itwouldhavebeenhardtoresistHoward’ssunnygoodnature。
Thebabylaughedandcrowed。Theoldmothercouldnottakeherdimeyesoffthefaceofherson，butsatsmilingathimasheateandrattledon。Whenherosefromthetableatlast，aftereatingheartilyandpraisingitall，hesaidwithasmile：
“Well，nowI’lljusttelephonedowntotheexpressandhavemytrunkbroughtup。I’vegotafewlittlethingsinthereyou’llenjoyseeing。Butthisfellow，“indicatingthebaby，“Ididn’ttakeintoaccount。Butnevermind；UncleHowardmakethatallright。“
“Youain’tgoin’tolayitupaginGrant，beyou，myson？“Mrs。
McLanefalteredastheywentoutintothebestroom。
“Ofcoursenot!Hedidn’tmeanit。Now，can’tyousendworddownandhavemytrunkbroughtup？OrshallIhavetowalkdown？“
“IguessI’llseesomebodygoin’down，“saidLaura。
“Allright。Nowforthehayfield，“hesmiledandwentoutintothegloriousmorning。
Thecirclinghillsthesame，yetnotthesameasatnight。Acooler，tenderer，moresubduedcloakofcoloru~onthem。Fardownthevalleyacool，deep，impalpable，bluemistlay，underwhichonedivinedtheriverIan，underitselmsandbasswoodsandwildgrapevines。Ontheshavenslopesofthehillscattleandsheepwerefeeding，theircriesandbellscomingtotheearwithasweetsuggestiveness。Therewassomethingimmemorialinthesunnyslopesdottedwithredandbrownandgraycattle。
Walkingtowardthehaymakers，Howardfeltatwingeofpainanddistrust。Wouldheignoreitallandsmile-
Hestoppedshort。HehadnotseenGrantsmileinsolong-hecouldn’tquiteseehimsmiling。Hehadbeencoldandbitterforyears。Whenhecameuptothem，Grantwaspitchingon；theoldmanwasloading，andtheboywasrakingafter。
“Goodmorning，“Howardcriedcheerily。Theoldmannodded，theboystared。Grantgrowledsomething，with-outlookingup。These“finical“thingsofsayinggoodmorningandgoodnightarenotmuchpracticedinsuchhomesasGrantMcLane’s。
“Needsomehelp？I’mreadytotakeahand。Gotonmyregimentalsthismorning。“
Grantlookedathimamoment。
“Youlooklikeit。“
“Gimmeaholdonthatfork，andI’llshowyou。I’mnotsosoftasI
look，nowyoubet。“
HelaidholdupontheforkinGrant’shands，whor~leaseditsullenlyandstoodbacksneering。Howardstrucktheforkintothepileintheoldway，threwhislefthandtotheendofthepolishedhandle，broughtitdownintothehollowofhisthigh，andlaidouthisstrengthtillthehandlebentlikeabow。“Oopsherises!“hecalledlaughingly，asthewholepilebeganslowlytorise，andfinallyrolleduponthehighload。
“Oh，Iain’tforgothowtodoit，“helaughedashelookedaroundattheboy，whowasstudyingthejacketandhatwithadevouringgaze。
Grantwasstudyinghimtoo，butnotinadmiration。
“Ishouldn’tsayyouhad，“saidtheoldman，tuggingattheforkful。
’Mightyfunnytocomeouthereanddoalittleofthis。Butifyouhadtocomehereanddoitallthewhile，youwouldn’tlooksowhiteandsoftinthehands，“Grantsaidastheymovedontoanotherpile。“Givemethatfork。You’llbespoilingyourfineclothes。“
“Oh，thesedon’tmatter。They’remadeforthiskindofthing。“
“Oh，arethey？IguessI’lldressinthatkindofarig。Whatdidthatshirtcost？Ineedone。“
“Sixdollarsapair；butthenit’sold。“
“Andthempants，“hepursued；“theycostsixdollars，too，didn’tthey？“
Howard’sfacedarkened。Hesawhisbrother’spurpose。Heresentedit。“Theycostfifteendollars，ifyouwanttoknow，andtheshoescostsix-fifty。Thisringonmycravatcostsixtydollars，andthesuitIhadonlastnightcosteighty-five。MysuitsaremadebyBreckstein，onFifthAvenueandTwentiethStreet，ifyouwanttopatronizehim，“heendedbrutally，spurredonbythesneerinhisbrother’seyes。“I’llintroduceyou。“
“Goodidea，“saidGrantwithaforced，mockingsmile。“Ineedjustsuchagetupforhayingandcornplowing。SingularIneverthoughtofit。Nowmypantscosteighty-fivecents，s’pendersfifteen，hattwenty，shoesone-fifty；stockin’sIdon’tbotherabout。“
Hehadhisbrotheratadisadvantage，andhegrewfluentandcausticashewenton，almostchangingplaceswithHoward，whotooktherakeoutoftheboy’shandsandfollowed，rakingupthescatterings。
“Singularwefellersherearediscontentedandmulish，am’tit？
Singularwedon’tbelieveyourletterswhenyouwrite，sayin’，’Ijustaboutmakealiveofit’？Singularwethinkthecountry’sgoin’tohell，wefellers，inatwodollarsuit，wadin’aroundinthemudorsweatin’aroundinthehayfield，whileyoufellerslayaroundNewYorkandsmokeandweargoodclothesandtoadytomillionaires？“
Howardthrewdowntherakeandfoldedhisarms。’MyGod!you’reenoughtomakeamanforgetthesamemotherboreus!“
“Iguessitwouldn’ttakemuchtomakeyouforgetthat。Youain’tputmuchthoughtonmenorherfortenyears。“
Theoldmancackled，theboygrinned，andHoward，sickandweakwithangerandsorrow，turnedawayandwalkeddowntowardthebrook。Hehadtriedoncemoretogetnearhisbrotherandhadfailed。OGod!howmiserably，pitiably!Thehotbloodgushedalloverhimashethoughtoftheshameanddisgraceofit。
He，amanassociatingwithpoets，artists，soughtafterbybrilliantwomen，accustomedtodeferenceevenfromsuchpeople，tobesneeredat，outfaced，shamed，shovedaside，byamaninastainedhickoryshirtandpatchedoveralls，andthatmanhisbrother!Helaydownonthebrightgrass，withthesheepallaroundhim，andwrithedandgroanedwiththeagonyanddespairofit。
Andworstofall，underneathitwasaconsciousnessthatGrantwasrightindistrustinghim。Hehadneglectedhim；hehadsaid，“I
guessthey’regettingalongallright。“HehadputthembehindhimwhentheinvitationtospendsummerontheMediterraneanorintheAdirondackscame。
“WhatcanIdo？WhatcanIdo？“hegroaned。
Thesheepnibbledthegrassnearhim，thejayscalledpertly，“Shame，shame，“aquailpipedsomewhereonthehillside，andthebrooksungasoft，soothingmelodythattookawayatlastthesharpedgeofhispain，andhesatupandgazeddownthevalley，brightwiththesunandapparentlyfilledwithhappyandprosperouspeople。
Suddenlyathoughtseizedhim。Hestoodupsosuddenlythesheepfledinaffright。Heleapedthebrook，crossedtheflat，andbegansearchinginthebushesonthehillside。“Hurrah!“hesaidwithasmile。
Hehadfoundanoldroadwhichheusedtotravelwhenaboy-aroadthatskirtedtheedgeofthevalley，nowgrownuptobrush，butstillpassableforfootmen。Asheranlightlyalongdownthebeautifulpath，underoaksandhickories，pastmassesofpoisonivy，underhanginggrapevines，throughclumpsofsplendidhazelnutbushesloadedwithgreatsticky，rough，greenburrs，hisheartthrewoffpartofitsload。
Howitallcamebacktohim!Howmanydays，whenUpTheCoulee73
theautumnsunburnedthefrostoffthebushes，hadhegatheredhazelnutsherewithhisboyandgirlfriends-HughandShelleyMcTurg，RomeSawyer，OrrinMcIlvaine，andtherest!Whathadbecomeofthemall？Howhehadforgottenthem!
Thisthoughtstoppedhimagain，andhefellintoadeepmuse，leaningagainstanoaktreeandgazingintothevastflecklessspaceabove。Thethrilling，inscrutablemysteryoflifefelluponhimlikeablindinglight。Whywashelivinginthecrushandthunderandmentalunrestofagreatcity，whilehiscompanions，seeminglyhisequal，inpowers，weremilkingcows，makingbutter，andgrowingcornandwheatinthesilenceanddrearmonotonyofthefarm？
Hisboyishsweethearts!Theirnamescamebacktohisearnowwithadull，sweetsoundasoffaintbells。Hesawtheirfaces，theirpinksunbonnetstippedbackupontheirnecks，theirbrownanklesflyingwiththeswiftactionofthescurryingpartridge。Hiseyessoftened；hetookoffhishat。Thesoundofthewindandtheleavesmovedhimalmosttotears。
Awoodpeckergaveashrill，high-keyed，sustainedcry，“Ki，ki，ki!“
andhestartedfromhisreverie，thedapplesofsunandshadefallinguponhislithefigureashehurriedondownthepath。
Hecameatlasttoafieldofcornthattantotheverywallofalargeweather-beatenhouse，thesightofwhichmadehisbreathingquicker。Itwastheplacewherehewasborn。Themysteryofhislifebeganthere。Inthebranchesofthosepoplarandhickorytreeshehadswungandsungintherushingbreeze，fearlessasasquirrelHerewasthebrookwhere，likealargerKildee，hewithGranthadwadedaftercrawfish，orhadstolenuponsomewarytrout，rough-cutpoleinhand。
Seeingsomeoneinthegarden，hewentdownalongthecornrowthroughtherustlingranksofgreenleaves。Anoldwomanwaspickingberries，asquatandshapelessfigure。
“Goodmorning，“hecalledcheerily。
“Morgen，“shesaid，looklngupathimwithastartledandveryredface。ShewasGermanineverylineofherbody。
“IchbinHerrMcLane，“hesaidafterapause。
“So？“sherepliedwithaquestioninginflection。
“Yah；ichbinHerrGrant’sbruder。“
“Ach，So!“shesaidwithadownwardinflection。“IchnospickInglish。NospickInglis。“
“Ichbindurstig，“hesaid。Leavingherpans，shewentwithhimtothehouse，whichwaswhathewantedtosee。
“Ichbinhiergeboren。“
“Ach，so!“Sherecognizedthelittlebitofsentiment，andsaidsomesentencesmGermanwhosegeneralmeaningwassympathy。
Shetookhimtothecoolcellarwherethespringhadbeentrainedtoruninto’atankcontainingpansofcreamandmilk，shegavehimacooldraughtfromalargetincup，andthenathisrequesttheywentupstairs。Thehousewasthesame，butsomehowseemedcoldandempty。Itwascleanandsweet，butithadsolittleevidenceofbeinglivedin。Theoldpart，whichwasbuiltoflogs，wasusedasbestroom，andmodeledafterthebestroomsoftheneighboringYankeehomes，onlyitwasemptier，withoutthecabinetorganandtheragcarpetandthechromoes。
Theoldfireplacewasbrickedupandplastered-thefireplacebesidewhichinthefar-offdayshehadlainonwinternights，tohearhisunclestelltalesofhunting，ortohearthemplaytheviolin，greatdreaminggiantsthattheywere。
Theoldwomanwentoutandlefthimsittingthere，thecenterofaswarmofmemoriescomingandgoinglikesomanyghostlybirdsandbutterflies。
Acuriousheartacheandlistlessness，anervelessmoodcameonhim。Whatwasitworth，anyhow-success？Struggle，strife，tramplingonsomeoneelse。Hisplaycrowdingoutsomeotherpoorfellow’shope。Thehawkeatsthepartridge，thepartridgeeatsthefliesandbugs，thebugseateachother，andthehawk，whenheinhisturnisshotbyman。So，intheworldofbusiness，thelifeofonemanseemedtohimtobedrawnfromthelifeofanotherman，eachsuccesstospringfromotherfailures。
Hewaslikeamanfromwhomallmotiveshadbeenwithdrawn。
Hewassick，sicktotheheart。Oh，tobeaboyagain!Anignorantbaby，pleasedwithablockandstring，withnoknowledgeandnocareofthegreatun-known!Tolayhisheadagainonhismother’sbosomandrest!Towatchtheflamesonthehearth!
Whynot？Wasnotthattheverythingtodo？Tobuybacktheoldfarm？Itwouldcripplehimalittleforthenextseason，buthecoulddoit。Thinkofit!Toseehismotherbackintheoldhome，withthefireplacerestored，theoldfurnitureinthesittingroomaroundher，andfinenewthingsintheparlor!
Hisspiritsroseagain。Grantcouldn’tstandoutwhenhebroughttohimadeedofthefarm。Surelyhisdebtwouldbecanceledwhenhehadseenthemallbackinthewideoldkitchen。Hebegantoplanandtodream。Hewenttothewindowsandlookedoutontheyardtoseehowmuchithadchanged。
He’dbuildanewbarnandbuythemanewcarriage。Hisheartglowedagain，andhislipssoftenedintotheirusualfemininegrace-lipsalittlefullandfallingeasilyintocurves。
TheoldGermanwomancameinatlength，bringingsomecakesandabowlofmilk，smilingbroadlyandhospitablyasshewaddledforward。
“Ach!Goot!“hesaid，smackinghislipsoverthepleasantdraught。
“Woistihregootmann？“heinquired，readyforbusiness。