“Well!” sighed the younger sister, “we’d be sheltered, anyway. But how about eating? Lyddy! I have such an appetite.”
“She says we can have her share of the crops if we will pay the taxes and make the necessary repairs.”
“Crops! what do you suppose is growing in those fields at this time of the year?”
“Nothing much. But if we could get out there early we might have a garden and see to it that Mr. Pritchett planted a proper crop. And we could have chickens–I’d love that,” said Lyddy.
“Oh, goodness, gracious me! Wouldn’t we all love it–father, too? But how can we even get out there, much more live till vegetables and chickens are ripe, on nothing a week?”
“That–is–what–I–don’t–see–yet,” admitted Lyddy, slowly.
“It’s very kind of Aunt Jane,” complained ’Phemie. “But it’s just like opening the door of Heaven to a person who has no wings! We can’t even reach Hillcrest.”
“You and I could,” said her sister, vigorously.
“How, please?”
“We could walk.”