The last wisp of hay was in the Eddy mows. "Come on!" shouted Jot. "Here she goes--hip, hip, hoo-ray!" "Hoor-a-ay!" echoed Kent. But of course Old Tilly took it calmly. He planted his brown hands pocket-deep and his bare, brown legs wide apart, and surveyed the splendid, bursting mows with honest pride.…
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