How would they ever cut the two thousand acres of wheat?
No wonder many men were needed.

Lenore sympathized with the operators of that harvester-thresher, but she did not like the dirt.

If she had been a man, though, that labor, hard as it was, would have appealed to her.

Harvesting the grain was beautiful, whether in the old, slow method of threshing or with one of these modern man-saving machines.
She jumped off, and the big, ponderous thing, almost gifted with intelligence, it seemed to Lenore, rolled on with its whirring roar, drawing its cloud of dust, and leaving behind a litter of straw.
It developed then that Adams had walked along with the machine, and he now addressed her.
"Will you be staying here till your father comes ?" he asked.
"No, Mr.Adams.Why do you ask ?" "You oughtn't come out here alone or go back alone....

All these strange men! Some of them hard customers! You'll excuse me, miss, but this harvest is not like other harvests." "I'll wait for my father and I'll not go out of sight," replied Lenore.
Thanking the foreman for his thoughtfulness, she walked away, and soon she stood at the edge of the first wheat-field.
The grain was not yet ripe but near at hand it was a pale gold.