Bill Forbes, across the road, needed some help harvesting his oat crop. He needed a man to help stack up the sheaves. He went into Chatham to get some help and returned with a man who professed he had done some farm work, but his hands were very soft and white. The next morning, a bit before daylight, Mr. Forbes yelled up the stairway that breakfast was ready. Fifteen or twenty minutes passed and the new man didn't appear. Mr. Forbes called again and asked him to get a move on. The new help came down the stairs wiping his eyes and wanted to know if the oats were so wild he had to sneak up on them in the dark. Mr. Forbes took him back to Chatham that night.