The grain came out in so tiny a stream that Lenore wondered how a bag was ever filled.

But she saw presently that even a tiny stream, if running steadily, soon made bulk.

That was proof of the value of small things, even atoms.
No marvel was it that Bill and his helper were as grimy as stokers of a furnace.

Lenore began to choke with the fine dust and to feel her eyes smart and to see it settle on her hands and dress.

She then had appreciation of the nature of a ten-hour day for workmen cutting eighteen acres of barley.