"I think she's got a plenty, Martin."
"You don't say so. Well, how's she off fer turnips?"
"She could use a few bushels of turnips an' some oats an' little corn, I reckon. Dern it, I believe she's purty nigh out of hay, too," said 'Gene, soberly.
"Tell her I'll drive over this week with some," said Martin, wiping his brow.
"She'll pay you fer the stuff when you take it over."
"I didn't 'low to ask fer pay."
"Well, she ain't askin' fer favors, either."
Martin stared down the road for some minutes.
"But I got more'n I c'n use," he said.
"If that's the case you c'n send it over an' she'll be mighty thankful. An' say, I guess I c'n use Bud to-morrow an' next day."