“Yes, we've got plenty. I'll bring it in with the pie.”
“Well,” murmured the old lady, “I'll get something for my trouble. I guess I'll go and take supper at Mis' Frost's a'terward.”
Betsy brought in a slice of apple and one of pumpkin pie, and set them down before the old lady. In addition she brought a generous mug of cider.
The old lady's eyes brightened, as she saw this substantial refreshment.
“You're a good gal, Betsy,” she said in the overflow of her emotions. “I was saying to my darter yesterday that I wish all the gals round here was as good and considerate as you be.”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Payson,” said Betsy modestly. “I ain't any better than girls generally.”
“Yes, you be. There's my granddarter, Jane, ain't so respectful as she'd arter be to her old grandma'am. I often tell her that when she gets to have children of her own, she'll know what tis to be a pilgrim an' a sojourner on the arth without nobody to consider her feelin's. Your cider is putty good.” Here the old lady took a large draft, and set down the mug with a sigh of satisfaction. “It's jest the thing to take when a body's tired. It goes to the right spot. Cynthy Ann's husband didn't have none made this year. I wonder ef your ma would sell a quart or two of it.”
“You can have it and welcome, Mrs. Payson.”
“Can I jest as well as not? Well, that's kind. But I didn't expect you to give it to me.”
“Oh, we have got plenty.”