Across the River by Alice Taylor Page B

that Davy had arrived.
    “He’ll never start without some smart comment,” Jack remarked, and sure enough Davy appeared at the door swinging a bucket and with a milking block propped against his hip.
    “Do you know something, Jack,” he said solemnly, “before you die we’ll patent you and send out replica models and you’d run the country no bother before the rest of us would even be out of bed in the morning.”
    “And when you die,” Jack retaliated, “you’ll have contributed so little to the progress of the world thatthey’ll jump on the grave to make sure you won’t come up again.”
    “Oh boys, Jack, that was low,” Davy said in an aggrieved tone and disappeared from the doorway.
    “Jack, you’re not good for the morale in the morning,” Peter told him.
    “Never mind the morale,” Jack said, “there’s only one thing on my mind now, and that’s getting the river meadow into wynds. So straight after the breakfast as soon as things are tidied up, you and I are going down there, and we must tell Davy to call to the Nolans on his way home from the creamery and tell them what we’re at.”
    “They might be doing something else,” Peter said.
    “Whether they are or not, the Nolans would never let you down, and Jeremy and Tom would make a big difference to us today,” Jack declared.
    “Jack, you’ve tunnel vision.”
    “Not a bad thing to have because you arrive at your destination faster,” Jack asserted and continued, “It will be great to have Nora as well today, because she is as good Jeremy or Davy or yourself.”
    “Thanks for nothing,” Peter said.
    “And maybe your Uncle Mark might wander over.”
    “For God’s sake, Uncle Mark is worse than useless, looking at the colour of sops of hay and the shape of frogs legs,” Peter protested.
    “Never mind, every pair of hands count in a meadow,” Jack told him. “It’s the one time that I’m all in favour of big numbers, because it’s encouraging. There is nothing that would get you down faster than the sight of a large meadow in the flat and facing it on your own. It would pull the heart out of you, and Mark is better than nothing.”
    “He’d be delighted to hear that,” Peter decided.
    After breakfast they did the yard jobs, and then Jack dispatched Peter to catch one of the horses and to tackle up the wheelrake.
    “Will you do the wheelraking, Peter?” he asked.
    “I will, of course, but you usually like to do that yourself.”
    “I’ll come down after you and rake out the dykes that Davy never got around to,” Jack told him.
    The sun was high in the sky as he walked down the fields with the rake over his shoulder. It was a day to do the heart good. There was no doubt but that June was the best month of the year. A good June and you could be sure of a full barn for the winter. If the weather came fine, the river meadows produced the best hay, that had body and substance and produced a good milk yield. When he reached the field, he bent down and felt the sward. It was crackling dry and ready for saving. It was a joy to be haymaking on a day like today.
    He went along by the dykes, raking back the hay into little piles to link up with the rows Peter was making. An occasional frog sprang long-legged over the hay on its way back into the moist dyke. There was no sound but the occasional thump of the wheelrake as Peter dropped the lever after each collection. They worked on steadily and were almost finished when Davy arrived swinging a gallon of tea and a basket.
    “Feeding time at the zoo,” he called out.
    “Are we not going up to the house?” Peter asked in surprise.
    “No,” Jack told him, “I asked your mother to send down some grub to spare time.”
    “You’re a real slave-driver,” Peter exclaimed.
    “Did you never hear of making hay while the sun shines?” Jack said. “Well, this is what it’s all about, so eat up fastnow and let’s get started. And before you say anything now, Davy, I want no old