There is but little cloud, mere thin flecks; but the horizon has a brassy look, and the blue of the sky is hard and opaque.

Farmer George recollects that the barometer he tapped before coming out showed a falling mercury; he does not like these appearances, more especially the heated breeze.

There is a large quantity of hay in the meadow, much of it quite ready for carting, indeed, the waggons are picking it up as fast as they can, and the rest, if left spread about through next day--Sunday--would be fit on Monday.
On Sunday there are no wages to pay to the labourers; but the sun, if it shines, works as hard and effectually as ever.

It is always a temptation to the haymaker to leave his half-made hay spread about for Sunday, so that on Monday morning he may find it made.

Another reason why he hesitates is because he knows he will have trouble with the labourers, who will want to be off early as it is Saturday.