No one can guess who does not know it!...

The clean, plump grain, the sowing on fallow ground, the long wait, the first tender green, and the change day by day to the deep waving fields of gold--then the harvest, hot, noisy, smoky, full of dust and chaff, and the great combine-harvesters with thirty-four horses.

Oh! I guess I do love it all....

I worked in a Spokane flour-mill, too, just to learn how flour is made.

There is nothing in the world so white, so clean, so pure as flour made from the wheat of these hills!" "Next you'll be telling me that you can bake bread," she rejoined, and her laugh was low and sweet.