At the sound of his mother's shout Tom came hurrying out from the back door; but he was so dreadfully shy, when he saw Nealie and Sylvia standing by the horse, that he was just going to make a bolt for it, and pretend that he had business in another direction, only just then Nealie began to unharness the animal, setting about her task with such an air of being accustomed to it that he suddenly forgot to be awkward and nervous, walking up to the wagon and saying, in a matter-of-fact tone: "Here, Miss, I'll look to your animal, and give him his supper and a rub down, while you go in with Mother and get a feed for yourself."
"You are very kind," said Nealie, "but I will just get his supper corn from the bottom of the wagon, because you will not know where to find it, and Mr. Wallis said that a horse could not do heavy draught work on grass feed."
"I should think not," replied Tom, with such an air of knowing all about it as made his mother glow with pleasure, for Tom's shyness was a real trouble to her, she never having been afflicted in that way herself. "The horse shall have a corn feed, Miss, but it will be our corn and not yours; that will do for to-morrow or the next day."
"Of course we don't let people feed themselves or their beasts when they come here!" echoed Mrs. Warner, taking hold of Nealie and forcibly leading her into the house, while the others trouped after them.
What a crowd they made in the canvas-walled kitchen. And what a supper they ate, sitting round the table eating scones and butter, with delicious raspberry jam. Amy, the stylish sister, made a fresh batch of scones, and cooked them in the oven, while the rosy-cheeked Bella went walking with her friend, who proved to be a good-looking young farmer, living farther up the valley.
The girls slept in the wagon that night, but the boys carried their mattresses into the big hay barn, because it threatened rain, and, as Mrs. Warner said, it was much easier to keep dry than to dry up after getting wet.
About midnight the rain came down at a pour; it rained until morning, when it came down faster than ever, and Mrs. Warner would not hear of their moving on. She said that Rockefeller certainly could not drag the wagon through the loose mud of the track, and if they got out to walk they would all catch bad colds, entailing no end of misery and discomfort on them all, and the only sensible thing to do was to stay in the Holderness Valley for another day, and the weather would be sure to be better to-morrow.
This was such common-sense advice that Nealie was very glad to take it, although she felt rather embarrassed, because it looked so much like sponging on the generosity of their kind hostess.
The younger ones were all delighted to stay, and Sylvia entered herself at once as an apprentice to the dairy business by taking a lesson in milking, and Mrs. Warner declared that when Bella was married to her friend who lived higher up the valley, Sylvia could come to the farm and fill the vacant place, earning her keep, and a good deal more besides.
The boys turned the handle of the separator, and made themselves generally useful. But Nealie went off in the rain with Mrs. Warner and Tom for a ride to the butter factory with the cream from the night before and that of the morning.