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OUR FIRST HARVEST.
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Dad felt very pleased—so did I.
The customer left. The storekeeper looked at Dad and twirled a piece of string round his first finger, then said—"Twelve pounds your corn cleared, Mr. Rudd; but, of course" (going to a desk), "there 's that account of yours which I have credited with the amount of the cheque—that brings it down now to just £3, as you will see by the account."
Dad was speechless, and looked sick.
He went home and sat on a block and stared into the fire with his chin resting in his hands, till Mother laid her hand upon his shoulder and asked him kindly what was the matter. Then he drew the storekeeper's bill from his pocket, and handed it to her, and she too sat down and gazed into the fire.
That was our first harvest.
