Florence laughed. “Why, they probably wouldn’t even know what I was talking about.”
“Don’t they use butter?”
“No, the peons never use it.”
“Well, then, let’s get extra milk and make it ourselves.”
“How? We haven’t a churn.”
“I’ve seen my mother make butter by stirring the cream in a bowl or jar,” Jo Ann explained.
Just then they reached the house, and all three ran on inside and began telling Mrs. Blackwell of their loss.
“Mrs. Blackwell, what is your opinion about the mysterious visitor—was he man or beast?” asked Jo Ann finally.
“I couldn’t say, of course, but it seems to me an animal would hardly carry off the glass jars of milk and butter.”
Jo Ann stared at Mrs. Blackwell a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, then turned and went on outside.