“Oh, yes, I see. Once in a while some of them stop, but we can’t always let them have the milk. And we charge a good price for it,” she warned. “We have enough today, though.”
The girls dismounted, tying their horses, or letting the groom do it, to the fence that ran along one side of the driveway.
“Don’t tie yer horse to no tree,” said the little boy, waving back one of the girls who was about to fasten her horse to a young peach tree. “They either breaks the branches or gnaws the bark,” he added.
The little girl had overcome her shyness by this time and was edging outside of the porch, trying to make up her mind whether she dared descend or not, among so many big girls. A big man, dressed roughly for his chores, came from one of the barns and added to the audience as he stood and watched the girls and his children from a distance.
Presently the woman reappeared carrying a big, white pitcher, and a young girl of about the same age as the Greycliff girls brought a tray of glasses, shining and clean.
“It can’t cost more than a Buster Brown or a pecan fudge sundae,” said Pauline. “Doesn’t it look good?” The milk was being poured by this time, creamy and cool.
Lilian, meanwhile, had found a few pieces of candy in her pocket and was coaxing the little girl to talk to her. The candy was left from Phil’s last tribute, ordered from New York, since he was not there to send it to her. Cathalina, too, fumbled in her pockets and discovered a little red pencil, with a silk cord attached, which had been used for some society doings and recently put in her pocket as convenient for taking her bird notes when afield.
“What is your name?” asked Cathalina.
“Charlotte,” replied the child, much taken with the red pencil.
“I have a cousin Charlotte, who is just about as old as you are, I think. Do you go to school yet?”