"Well, I'll put the roan in the stable, Tom; then I'll mosey 'cross home and get my men at the cider-makin'. A few frosts like last night's, an' all the apples will be soured. See you tonight at prayer-meetin'."
Wilson picked up his pails and carried them to the fence. Seeing Billy emerge from the house he placed them on the top step of the stile and waited.
"Have a good time last night?" he asked.
Billy grinned, "You bet! I tell you Ma kin certainly roast partridge fine, an' say, can't old Harry play the dandiest tune you ever heard? Lou says he puts all the songs of the wood-birds into one sweet warble."
"I guess whatever Lou says is jest about right, eh?"
Billy blushed to the roots of his hair but his grey eyes met his father's steadily. "Yep," he answered, "jest about right."
Billy lifted the pails and turned up the path.
"Where have you put that man-eatin' swamp coon?" asked his father as he followed. "I believe he's gettin' cross. You'll have to watch him."
"Oh, Ringdo ain't cross," laughed Billy, "he's only playful. He's over to Teacher Stanhope's. He's so fond of the teacher he won't stay away from him."
Billy set the pails down on the block outside the milk-house and rubbed his cheek against Croaker, who had just alighted on his shoulder. "Are you goin' to show me where you found the gold-pieces, Croaker?" he asked, stroking the ruffled plumage smooth.