“Nita, what in th’ name o’ Heaven are you doin’ in them boots?”
“Irrigatin’.”
“Is the water runnin’ on the ’falfy?”
“Yep. I turned her on. It needed it pretty badly, pa.”
“Why, that patch was irrigated only last week, girl!” he cried. “It’s the tent north o’ the house that’s dry.”
“Oh!” said Manzanita. “I didn’t know. I heard you say—— I haven’t hurt anything, have I, pa?”
He dismounted deliberately and walked toward her, chuckling as he thought of the size of the feet within his number eleven boots.
“What’s the matter with ye, daughter?” he asked, kissing her.
“I have awakened,” said Manzanita. “I realize that my life has been wasted. I’ve been a useless creature—a drone—a millstone about the neck of progress.”
“Wait a minute! How’s that?”