"Then I take out our milk bottle, that's been warming by the fire.
"'How'll they manage now?' says one, and all the rest look on to see.
"'Why, we'll just have to share and share about, unless the lady's to go without,' say I. And then I make believe to whisper something in your ear.
"And you nod, and take the bottle and drink, and hand it to me after.
"''Tis as good as newly milked,' say I. And you laugh, and the men laugh too.
"Then I take a drink, and you again. I wipe the mouth of the bottle on my sleeve each time before giving it you. And the men, of course, they think that's a mighty fine way of doing things.
"'Never would have thought it,' says one of them. And they go on with their meal.
"'Do as the folks you fall in with, it seems,' says one bolder than the rest.
"'Just so,' say I, 'and that's as it should be'; and there's no saying anything against that, and so we get on finely.
"Then when the meal's over, we lie down by the fire a bit. One man takes out some leaf tobacco from his pack, and cuts it up on a tree stump—hadn't had time before. Then he passes it round, and I fill my pipe too, for all that I'm in company with a fine lady.