An hour later still finds Phil alone in the field, stooping over the ground and moving slowly along. He looks like a tiny old man, with his bent form and his hat pushed to the back of his head.
Steadily and laboriously he gathers up the scattered ears of corn.
He finds it harder work than he thought, and he stops now and then to take out his handkerchief and wipe his hot face, with a quaint imitation of the labourers he has so often watched. Then he stands with his arms akimbo, to rest before setting to work again with determined energy.
There is quite a large bundle of gleanings lying on his outspread handkerchief. He has brought his best and largest to hold his gains; and now the heap of corn almost eclipses the border of kittens and puppies, with arched backs and bristling tails, that Phil thinks "so jolly."
The little gleaner has stopped again to straighten his back, and is watching the merry gambols of two brown baby rabbits that, quite unconscious of Phil's nearness, are playing round one of the shocks, as if they thought it had been put there solely for their amusement.
Round and round, in and out, they scamper, until Phil's laughter breaks into a shout, and he claps his hands in keen delight.
This brings the entertainment to an abrupt end.
Off fly the terrified animals--their fun and frolic turned to fear by that very human and boyish cry; and the child's merriment dies too.
He begins his labours again, saying to himself, "Well, you bunnies are awfully easily scared! It's a good thing gentlemen can be braver than that."
And so the sturdy legs trudge backwards and forwards across the field.
The sun shines warmly, and Phil's face grows hot and red. Phil begins to feel hungry too.
"If I was a big man, I think I should have a nice lot of bread and cheese! I wish I _was_ a man. But I can be a gentleman _now_, father says so."
He stands with his head on one side and his hands in his pockets, looking down thoughtfully at his gleanings. He is sure that he has got enough now; but he is not quite so sure that he can carry them all at once. However, he boldly grasps the corner of his gay handkerchief lifts the bundle, and staggers under its weight across the uneven ground.
Through the little gate on the other side of the corn field, with his back turned to his own home, Phil pushes his way, and passes into the cool shadows of the lane, just as a servant-maid enters the field by the other gate.