" And he burst out laughing, in his high, cracked voice.
"Do you remember the last corn-husking?" asked Mr. Jeminy. "It was in
the autumn before the war. Anna Barly and Alec Stove lost themselves
in the woods. And Elsie Cobbler burned her fingers. How she cried and
carried on; Anna came running back, to see what it was all about. But
before the evening was over, she was off again, with Noel Ploughman."
Mr. Tomkins nodded his head. Timid in the presence of Mr. Jeminy's
books, he was happy and hearty in his own potato patch. "I remember,"
he said. "I remember more than you do, Jeminy. I can look back to the
first husking bee I ever was at. That was in '62. A year later I
shouldered a gun, and went off with the drafts of '63. Your speaking
of Noel put me in mind of it.
"When I got home again," he continued, "there was nothing for me to do.
In those days folks did their own work. Then there was time for
everything. But the days are not as long as they used to be when I was
young. Now there's no time for anything.
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