Mink gravely nodded in response to her grave salutation. He seemed at first about to pass without stopping, but when it was evident that she intended to let the ox trudge on he drew up the mare.
“Howdy, Lethe,” he said.
“Howdy,” returned Alethea.
“Enny news?”
She shook her head without speaking.
“Whar be ye a-goin’ with Buck?” he asked.
“Arter the warpin’ ars. They war loaned ter aunt Dely, an’ she hain’t got but one steer ter haul ’em home. So Buck hed ter go.”
The ox had reached up his dun-colored head for the leaves, all green and flecked with golden light. She had loosed her hold upon the rope, and seriously gazed at Mink.
“I war down ter Crosby’s yestiddy evenin’,” he observed, watching her.
“I hopes ye enjyed yerse’f,” she said, with tart self-betrayal.