“Yes’m; taken bad and gone in a few hours,” she continued. “And that was the second I lost in two months. I don’t have no luck somehow.”
“The second in two months!” I repeated in surprise.
“Yes’m, and I feel that downhearted about it, I don’t think I’ll go in for another. I said so only last night to my husband.”
“Your husband?” I echoed again. It was beginning to sound like bigamy!
“He said at the time he thought the £15 I give was a swindle for the brindled cow.”
“The brindled cow?” I said feebly. I really didn’t know what else to say. Virginia need not have laughed!
Then I rallied my senses. “But I thought you had trouble about a fortnight ago—your husband, Zebadiah Price—I heard——”
“My Zeb? About a fortnight ago? Let’s see?”—thoughtfully turning her left eye in the direction of the church spire, and thereby tilting her hat askew. “Ah, I expect you mean about last February; to be sure, he did have a touch of this ’ere influenza; and he were a bit queer for a couple of days, he were: but that was nothing to my losing my calf!”
“I’m glad it was no worse,” I said heartily. “Why, Mrs. Jane Price told me she was coming to the funeral.”