It
meant bitter and terrible silence. He ate his dinner without another
word.
It was beginning to cloud up. A thin, whitish, 'all-pervasive vapor
which meant rain was dimming the sky, and be forced his hands to
their utmost during the afternoon in order to get most of the down
hay in before the rain came. He was pitching hay up into the barn
when Howard came by just before one o'clock.
It was windless there. The sun fell through the white mist with
undiminished fury, and the fragrant hay sent up a breath that was
hot as an oven draught. Grant was a powerful man, and there was
something majestic in his action as he rolled the huge flakes of hay
through the door. The sweat poured from his face like rain, and he
was forced to draw his dripping sleeve across his face to clear
away the blinding sweat that poured into his eyes.
Howard stood and looked at him in silence, remembering how
often he had worked there in that furnace heat, his muscles
quivering, cold chills running over his flesh, red shadows dancing
before his eyes.
His mother met him at the door anxiously, but smiled as she saw
his pleasant face and cheerful eyes.
"You're a little late, m' son.
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