“That's a habit of millionaires, I believe.”
“Hey? What do you mean by that? If they didn't have money they couldn't be millionaires, could they? How'd you like to be a millionaire, Ros?”
“I don't know. I never tried.”
“By time! I'D like to try a spell. I've been over lookin' 'round their place. You never see such a place! Why, their front doorstep's big as this yard, pretty nigh.”
“Does it have to be raked?” I asked.
“Raked! Whoever heard of rakin' a doorstep?”
“Give it up! But it does seem to me that I have heard of raking a yard. I think Dorinda mentioned that, didn't she?”
Lute looked at me: then he hurried over and picked up the rake which was lying near the barn, a pile—a very small pile—of chips and leaves beside it.
“When did she mention it?” he asked.
“A week ago, I think, was the first time. She has referred to it occasionally since. She was mentioning it to you when I went up town this morning. I heard her.”