Masters of the Wheat-Lands by Harold Bindloss

Harvest had commenced at the Range, and the clashing binders were moving through the grain when Hawtrey sat one afternoon in Wyllard's room. It was about five o'clock, and every man belonging to the homestead was toiling, bare-armed and grimed with dust, among the yellow oats, but Hawtrey sat at a table gazing with a troubled face at the litter of papers in front of him. He wore a white shirt and store clothes, which was distinctly unusual in case of a Western farmer at harvest time, and Edmonds, the mortgage-jobber, leaned back in a big chair quietly watching him.

Edmonds had called at a singularly inconvenient time, and Hawtrey was anxious to get rid of him before the arrival of the guests that he expected. It was Sally's birthday, and, since she took pleasure in simple festivities of any kind, he had arranged to celebrate it at the Range. He was, however, sufficiently acquainted with the money-lender's character to realize that it was most unlikely that he would take his departure before he had accomplished the purpose which had brought him there. This was to collect several thousand dollars.