“I don't know how to describe them,” said Granny with perfect truth.
The Harvester leaped into the wagon and caught up the lines. As he disappeared around the curve of the driveway Granny snatched the letters from her dress front and thrust them deep into one of her stockings.
“Now, drat you!” she cried. “Stick out all you please. Nobody will see you there.”
In a few minutes the Harvester helped her into the carriage and drove rapidly toward the city.
“You needn't strain your critter,” said Granny. “It's not so bad as that, David.”
“Is your chest any better?”
“A sight better,” said Granny. “Shakin' up a little 'pears to do me good.”
“You never should have tried to walk. Suppose I hadn't been here. And you came the long way, too! I'll have a telephone run to your house so you can call me after this.”
Granny sat very straight suddenly.
“My! wouldn't that get away with some of my foxy neighbours,” she said. “Me to have a 'phone like they do, an' be conversin' at all hours of the day with my son's folks and everybody. I'd be tickled to pieces, David.”