“I hear tell you aim to buy a cow.”
“Calc’late to, if I kin git a good one.”
“Cash?”
“On the spot,” says Mr. Gackins. “Got a Jersey fer sale?”
“Expect to have. How high d’you aim to go fer sich a cow?”
“Depends on the cow,” says Mr. Gackins. “Pervidin’ she was a good-dispositioned critter that wasn’t give to kickin’ over the milk-pail and stickin’ her hoof in the milk, and pervidin’ she give a generous pailful, why, I might go as high as thirty or maybe thirty-five dollars.”
“Um!... Goin’ to be home all mornin’?”
“Yes.”
“Figger I kin fetch around jest the cow you want. Won’t be more ’n an hour or two.”
“I’ll be waitin’ fer you, but mind she’s sweet-tempered. I got to milk her myself, and I hain’t hankerin’ to git kicked over the fence, nor yet hooked in the stummick. Always name my cows Jane. Git me one by the name of Jane, if you kin.”