“Madam, we are very grateful to you for this kindness, and will pay you before leaving,” called Miss Elting to the housewife, who came out at this juncture to draw up the bucket of buttermilk from the cool depths of the well.
“You’re welcome, I’m sure. I just baked to-day. Hope the cookies are all right. They didn’t rise to suit me.”
“They’d have burthted if they’d rithen any more,” observed Tommy. She was rebuked by a look from Harriet.
“I hope you like them,” smiled the woman.
“Oh, they are simply delicious,” answered Harriet, with glowing eyes. “And that buttermilk! I never drank any that tasted better.”
The party ate their fill of the good things, Margery doing even more than her share in disposing of both buttermilk and food. When they had finished, the tray was empty. The woman offered to bring them more food, but Miss Elting said “no.” She gave the woman fifty cents despite the protests of the latter; then, after a brief rest, they started on again, first having expressed their thanks to the housewife, who stood in the door of her home watching the little party until it had passed out of sight.
About the middle of the afternoon the girls halted for another rest because of Margery’s complaints that she was feeling ill.
“You ate too much,” declared Harriet. “It doesn’t do to eat so much when one is taking exercise as we are.”
“Yeth. Buthter alwayth eatth too much,” averred Tommy wisely.
“Oh!” moaned Margery Brown, sitting down all in a heap. “I can’t walk another step to-day.”