"Good afternoon, sir."
"Bugs purty plenty?"
"Plenty enough, I gol! I don't see where they all come fum."
"Early Rose?" inquired the man, as if referring to the bugs.
"No; Peachblows an' Carter Reds. My Early Rose is over near the house. The old woman wants 'em near. See the darned things!" he pursued, rapping savagely on the edge of the pan to rattle the bugs back.
"How do yeh kill 'em—scald 'em?"
"Mostly. Sometimes I"——
"Good piece of oats," yawned the stranger, listlessly.
"That's barley."
"So 'tis. Didn't notice."