"Why so?" asked Jim Harkey, a sullen-faced man of thirty.
"Because a shote is hard to carry off and I can balance—"
"Well, I guess you can balance f'r Em 'bout as well as f'r Serry."
The Deacon was willing to yield a point. "Any objection, Bill? If not, why—"
"Nope, let her go," said Bill.
"What 'ave you got to say 'bout it?" asked Jim, insolently.
Bill turned his slow bulk. "I guess I've a good 'eal to say—haven't I, Serry?"
Sarah reddened, but stood beside him bravely. "I guess you have, Bill, about as much as I have." There was a moment of dramatic tension and the girls tingled with sympathy.
"Let 'er go," said Bill, splitting a straw with his knife. He had not proposed to Sarah before and he felt an unusual exaltation to think it came so easy after all.
When they reached the cattle, Jim objected to striking a balance with a "farrer cow," and threw the Deacon's nice calculation all out of joint.