“Oh, dear me!” cried Lyddy. “Then I’m just where I was when I started!”
“You wanter watch Jud Spink,” grumbled Mr. Pritchett, rising from the fence-rail on which he had been squatting. “Does he want to buy the farm?”
“Why–I guess not. He only made Aunt Jane a small offer for it.”
“He’ll make a bigger,” said Pritchett, clamping his jaws down tight on that word, and turned on his heel.
She knew there was no use in trying to get more out of him then. Cyrus Pritchett had “said his say.”
When Lyddy got back to the house again she found that Grandma Castle’s folks had come to see her in their big automobile, and she and ’Phemie had to hustle about with Mother Harrison to re-set the enlarged dining table and make other extra preparations for the unexpected visitors.
So busy were they that the girls did not miss Harris Colesworth and his father. They appeared just before the late dinner, rather warm and hungry-looking for the Sabbath, Harris bearing something in his arms carefully wrapped about in newspapers.
“Oh, what have you got?” ’Phemie gasped, having just a minute to speak to the young man.
“Samples of the water Spink has bottled up there,” returned Harris.
“What is it?”