"No, ma'am, I ain't. The wolves got mine last winter, and I ain't got round to getting another one yet. What kind would you like?"
"Why, a collie—aren't they nice?"
"Yes, ma'am, I reckon. Only thing is, they might take me fer a sheep man. I'd hate that."
"Well—even a little dog?"
"I'll get you one, any kind you want. I allow myself, a dog is a heap of comfort. I'm about the only homesteader in this valley that ain't got one right now. Some has sever'l."
"I can make the coffee, I'm sure," she said, still endeavoring to be of use. But she was skimpy in her measurement, and he reproached her.
"That won't make it strong enough. Don't you like it right strong?"
"Well, Annie and I," said she honestly, "couldn't afford to make it very strong. Annie was my roommate, you see."
"We can afford anything we want out here, ma'am. I got a credit at the store. We're going to make six hundred tons of hay right out there in them medders this summer. We're going to have plenty of money. Hay is mighty high. I can get eight dollars a ton standing out there, and not put a machine into it myself. Wheat is two dollars and twenty cents a bushel, the lowest."
"Why, that's fine, that's fine!" said she. "I'm so glad." She knew nothing in the world about hay or wheat.