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 accept his explanation that shearing was part of the curriculum in the college which gave him his degree.

The mistress of the flock was so pleased with her visitor's dexterity as he worked over a forlorn and chastened-looking ewe between his knees, that she called Edith from the house to witness this almost unbelievable thing. Edith appeared at her loud whoop, suddenly, with a look of consternation.

"Look at him—look at that chemical farmer shearin' a sheep!"

Mrs. Duke offered the spectacle proudly, as if all credit for-this small accomplishment in animal husbandry belonged to her alone. One might have thought she had given the young man his first lesson but a minute before, and he had surpassed his instructor after the first six strokes.

"Oh, I thought the place was afire!" said Edith, neither electrified nor surprised.

"But look at him—just look at him!" Mrs. Duke insisted. "He can shear a sheep dang near as good as I can."

"Why, of course, Aunt Lila. I knew he could all the time."

"He's a natural-born sheepman. That's what that boy is."

"Maybe he is," Edith allowed indifferently, her interest apparently hard to move and harder to hold. She was gazing up the road again, a look of worriment in her eyes.

The object of their discussion was the width of the corral distant, operating in the door of a shed, a wool-sack hanging beside him into which he tossed the fleece,