The laboured “puff” of the engine and a confused whirring and thudding, betoken that churning and cutting and crushing are all proceeding at the same time. Who dreams that a farmhouse is a quiet place. From the barn comes one with a bloody hand. “I’ve got my fingers cut off!”
How often have we cautioned and no notice taken? Fortunately, it is not so bad as it might have been. Only one finger with a piece sliced off and another badly cut; but it means being partly off work for an indefinite number of weeks; and many and long are the moans.
“I would rather it were you than any of the servants” we say, and immediately we bestir ourselves to have the servants insured against accident.