"A broker wouldn't have said that," objected Billy, pursing up her mouth. "A broker would say, 'No, indeed, Miss Bartlett. Don't be afraid. A cow is really harmless,' and smile as if I were young and half-witted, anyway."
A stick snapped again, nearer, and a woodpecker fled from a group of trees, scolding angrily.
Billy rose nervously. "If that's a male cow—"
"Sit down," ordered the Watermelon. "It's no cow, unfortunately. It's the general."
"Don't you like the general?" asked Billy, sitting down again, but ready to rise quickly, instantly.
"Yes, I like him, but I don't think I would if I were a motor-car."
"I have known him and Henrietta all my life," said Billy. "Henrietta has been like a mother to me," she added, a statement Henrietta would have denied, shortly but firmly. "Really, we ought to go back."
"Politeness is not politeness unless it comes from the heart," said the Watermelon, in the tones that had made Henrietta think of a minister, she knew not why.
"Did your father used to say that?"
"No, he never had any cause to. We never were polite."