"Yes," she said. "Will you please tell me if you are the windmill man?"
Jed accepted the snub with outward humility and inward appreciation.
"Why, yes," he admitted; "I presume likely I'm the windmill man. Is there anything I can do for you this evenin'?"
Apparently there was, for the child, untucking the doll from beneath her right arm and tucking it under the left, pointed her right hand at a wooden weather-vane in the shape of a sperm whale and asked:
"Please, does that fish go 'round?"
"Go 'round? Go 'round where?"
"I mean does it go 'round and 'round on a stick?"
"Cal'late it does when it has a chance."
"And does it make the wind blow no'theast by no'th and—and like that?"
"Eh? Make the wind blow—how?"