"Oh no, no," said La Fleur, dropping her head on one side so that her smile made a slight angle with the horizon; "I never cooked for the queen, no indeed; but I have lived with high families, lords, ladies, and ambassadors, and I don't remember that any of them had better potatoes than I saw to-day. Is this a large farm, Michael?"
"It's considerable over a hundred acres, though I don't 'xactly know how much. Not what you'd call big, and not what you'd call little."
"But you grow beautiful crops on it, I don't doubt," remarked La Fleur.
"Can't say about that," said Mike, shaking his head a little. "I 'spects we'll git good 'nough craps for what we do for 'em. This ain't the kind of farm your lords and ladies has got. It's ramshackle, you know."
"Ramshackle?" repeated La Fleur. "Is that a sort of sheep farm?"
Mike grinned. "Law, no, we ain't got no sheep, and I'm glad of it. Ramshackle farmin' means takin' things as you find 'em, an' makin' 'em do, an' what you git you've got, but with tother kind of farmin' most times what you git, ye have to pay out, an' then you ain't got nuthin'."
This was more than La Fleur could comprehend, but she inferred in a general way that Mr. Haverley's farm was a profitable one.
"All so pretty, so pretty," she said, looking from side to side; "such a grand barn, and such broad acres. Is it the estate as far as I can see?"
"Yes, mum," said Mike, "an' a good deal furder. The woods cuts it off down thataway."
"It is a lordly place," said La Fleur, "and it does you honor, Michael, for the cook told me you were Mr. Haverley's head man."