The rye was to be cut at Silas Chamberlain's. John suggested to Elizabeth that she had better go over to help Liza Ann, since she was alone, saying that he would take her over when he went. Hugh was to go with the machine. Jake would drive the extra team over, and the other two men would plow corn at home. A few minutes before nine o'clock John announced that he was ready. He had come in to carry Jack to the buggy for her. John had gone away with the impressions of Elizabeth's illness still upon him, and looked out for her with the same care he had accorded her when an invalid. "How long?" he asked, dropping down on the foot of the bed beside the machine upon which she had been putting in the spare time. "Just this one little seam; I'll have it done then." She stooped over the machine to finish the seam quickly, not liking to keep John waiting when he was already somewhat late. Jack slipped from his father's lap, and fascinated by the swiftly moving wheel on a level with his face, put out a pudgy little forefinger to feel of it as it went around. His mother saw it and stopped short with a little cry of alarm. "Don't do that, Jack!" she said sharply. "It'll take your finger right off of your hand if you get it in there." Jack put his hand behind his little back, and stood in round-eyed wonder watching the wheel as she started to sew again. John was getting restless and wanted to go. "Aren't you about----" Elizabeth looked up at him as he started to speak, and Jack's finger shot out to the forbidden wheel on the instant. Elizabeth saw it at a point when she could not control the pedal with her foot. Mother love brought a scream to her lips, and to save the child she gave him a shove with her hand. Jack fell on the floor in a heap, striking his head on the bedpost as he did so. John had clutched at him ineffectually as he fell and caught him up as soon as he could get hold of him, turning him over in his arms to see where he was hurt. The blood spurted from the little nose, giving an appearance of serious injury to the matter all out of proportion to the exact nature of the damage sustained, but as usual, when excited, John saw only surface indications. "What does possess you when you're cross?" he exclaimed as he relinquished his hold on the baby, who, however badly he might be hurt, was struggling to get to his mother's arms. Elizabeth carried the screaming child to the kitchen to bathe the bruised nose and apply a wet cloth to the nasty blue ridge beginning to form where the little cheek had encountered the bedpost. "I never saw any one act like you do with a child," John said with his usual irritation. "I didn't intend to knock him over, but I couldn't stop my foot and I thought he'd get his little finger taken right off before my very eyes." "Well, you shouldn't go at him so rough. You always treat him as if he were a block of wood."