Alethea, apprised how precious the seeds were, began to gather them up as she sat on the step.
“Listen ter Jerry, now!” exclaimed Mrs. Purvine, with whom the world had evidently gone much amiss to-day. “Needn’t tell me he don’t hurt Bluff’s feelins, callin’ him names whilst ploughing an’ yellin’ at him like a plumb catamount. Ef Bluff hedn’t treated me like he done this mornin’, I’d go thar an’ make Jerry shet up.”
Now and then the ox and the man at the plough-tail came into view at the end of the field that sloped down to the road. One of aunt Dely’s boys was dropping corn in the furrow, and the other followed with a hoe and covered the grain in. Alethea watched them with the interest of a practical farmer.
Aunt Dely, too, looked up, repeating the old formula:—
“One fur the cut-worm an’ one fur the crow,
Two fur the blackbird an’ one fur ter grow.”
Jerry, glancing toward the house, called out a salutation to Alethea, and then at long range entered upon a colloquy with Mrs. Purvine touching the lack of seed.
“Whar’s that thar t’other bag o’ seed-corn?” he demanded.
“Waal, I ain’t got none!” cried out Mrs. Purvine peremptorily. “I mus’ hev made a mistake, and fedded that thar bag o’ special an’ percise fine seed-corn ter the chickens,—I wish they war every one fried. I disremember now what I done, an’ what I done it fur. Ye jes’ gear up Bluff in the wagin an’ go ter mill, an’ see ef ye can’t git some thar.”
“Laws-a-massy!” objected Jerry, “’tain’t no use ter make Bluff go. I kin git thar an back quicker an’ easier ’thout him ’n with him.”