The great boat-shaped wagons came up from Playcross with the hay. At
first the farm-men waggoned it. On the third day one of the land-girls
appeared with the first load, drawing to a standstill easily at the head
of her two great horses. She was a buxom girl, young, in linen overalls
and gaiters. Her face was ruddy, she had large blue eyes.
'Now that's the waggoner for us, boys,' said the corporal loudly.
'Whoa!' she said to her horses; and then to the corporal: 'Which boys do
you mean?'
'We are the pick of the bunch. That's Joe, my pal. Don't you let on that
my name's Albert,' said the corporal to his private. 'I'm the corporal.'
'And I'm Miss Stokes,' said the land-girl coolly, 'if that's all the boys
you are.'
'You know you couldn't want more, Miss Stokes,' said Albert politely.
Joe, who was bare-headed, whose grey flannel sleeves were rolled up to
the elbow, and whose shirt was open at the breast, looked modestly aside
as if he had no part in the affair.
'Are you on this job regular, then?' said the corporal to Miss Stokes.
'I don't know for sure,' she said, pushing a piece of hair under her hat,
and attending to her splendid horses.
'Oh, make it a certainty,' said Albert.
She did not reply. She turned and looked over the two men coolly. She was
pretty, moderately blonde, with crisp hair, a good skin, and large blue
eyes. She was strong, too, and the work went on leisurely and easily.
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