“I take it back,” admitted Janet, “and I’ll not call my work ‘weeding.’  What are you doing, idling here, Mr. Farmer?  I thought you never allowed a moment to go to waste.”

“I’m not wasting any now,” disputed the farmer.  “I merely paused a moment on my way to the barn where I intend to rig up a fork for unloading.  I’m consulting the Lady of Strawberry Acres about letting your brother’s boys come and rake hay for us.”

“Oh, yes.  He’s full of that plan.  I’ll give you fair warning, Sally, if you give Don half an opening he’ll have you overrun here with his proteges.  Have you the least idea how many men, boys, and babies he has on his lists?  And every one of them is a personal and particular friend of his.”

“I know he’s a tremendous worker.”  Sally rose to her feet and surveyed the result of her labours.  “They look dreadfully droopy, don’t they?”

“You need more water.  I’ll get it.”  And Jarvis picked up her sprinkling-can and was off with it.

“I shall be delighted to have the boys come, Janet,” Sally went on heartily.  “I think your brother’s work is fine—­great—­and if the old farm can help in any way I shall be glad.”

“I thought you were arranging to have a house-party from town, and I was afraid his plan would interfere.”

“I did plan that, some time ago, but I like this idea much better.  What’s the use of exerting ourselves to entertain a lot of indifferent people when we can give a jolly time to the ones who never have any fun at all?”

“That’s what Don says.  And these boys are his special care.  He has club-rooms for them in the city, and he’s working now to get all sorts of additions to it—­baths and showers and gymnasium apparatus.  Oh, I think it’s fine, too.  I didn’t at first, when he wrote me about it, but now that I’m here and see for myself, I’m immensely interested and want to help.”

They discussed the coming event fully as they worked.  It was discussed by everybody during the next few days, and plans were carefully perfected with the view of combining a good time for the young guests with the serious purpose of getting the haying done as promptly and effectually as possible.

So, on a certain day in early July, Jake Kelly cut the hay, the entire ten acres, and reported a fair crop for land that had been running wild so long, a rather rainy spring having helped matters considerably.  On the morning of the next day Ferry’s boys were to arrive.

“I wish it were a holiday for me,” admitted Max, as he left the house to catch his car.  “I’d rather enjoy seeing the mess Ferry and Jarve get into with a corps of bootblacks to make hay for them.  They’ll ‘make hay,’ all right, mark my word.”

“Each of us girls is going to drive one load down to the barn,” called Sally gayly, from the porch.

As he ran down the driveway, Max waved his hand with a gesture of despair as if to indicate that this announcement certainly finished the prospect of getting anything done on the farm.