B. (smiling). And I am glad to make your acquaintance, Eunice. When did you leave home?
E. Day before yesterday.
Mrs. A. You must be quite fatigued (E. stares)—tired, perhaps I should say—with your journey.
E. No; I aint tired a mite.
B. Were you ever in the city before?
E. I guess not. I don’t remember it if I was. It looks queer enough to see the houses crowded so thick together. And I haven’t seen a barn since I came. I suppose, though, they’re all in back of the houses; but then I don’t see how folks get their caows in and out. I s’pose they pastur’ ’em on the common.
B. Oh, no, they wouldn’t be allowed in any of the parks. It is too thickly settled here for any one to keep cows.
E. You don’t mean to say that you have to buy all your butter! It must cost a sight. Why, if I’d a’ known it, I’d have brought you a mess. We churned the day before I came away, and the butter came tip-top.
(Mrs. A. quietly leaves the room, R.)
E. (noticing her aunt’s exit). I s’pose your mother’s gone out to get tea. If you want to help her, don’t let me hinder you. And if there’s anything that I can do, jest let me know, for I’d just as lieves help as not.