"Well, ain't it purty short, pap?" she said suggestively.
"I swear, I don't know but it is," conceded Anson, scratching his head; "I hadn't paid much 'tention to it before. It certainly is a lee-tle too short. Lemme see: ain't no way o' lettin' it down, is they?"
"Nary. She's clean down to the last notch now," replied Flaxen convincingly.
"Couldn't pull through till we thrash?" he continued, still in a tentative manner.
"Could, but don't like to," she answered, laughing again, and showing her white teeth pleasantly.
"I s'pose it'll cost suthin'," he insinuated in a dubious tone.
"Mattie Stuart paid seven dollars fer her'n, pap, an' I—"
"Seven how manys?"
"Dollars, pap, makin' an' everythin'. An' then I ought to have a new hat to go with the dress, an' a new pair o' shoes. All the girls are wearin' white, but I reckon I can git along with a good coloured one that'll do fer winter."
"Wal, all right. I'll fix it—some way," Ans said, turning away only to look back and smile to see her dancing up and down and crying: