"Have you found the turkeys, Artemise?" Madame hastened to ask.
"Ya, 'm."
"You Artemise!" shouted Aunt Florindy, the cook, who was passing through the hall with a batch of newly baked light bread. "She's a-lyin', mist'ess, if dey ever was! You foun' dem turkeys?" upon the child. "Whar was you at, de whole blesse' time? Warn't you stan'in' plank up agin de back o' de hen-'ous'? Never budged a inch? Don't jaw me down, gal; don't jaw me!" Artemise was only gazing at Aunt Florindy with unruffled calm. "I warn't gwine tell on 'er, but arter dat untroof, I boun' to."
"Let her alone, Aunt Florindy," Madame interfered. "Where are the turkeys, Artemise?"
"Yon'a," she simply articulated, bringing the pump-handle motion of her arm into play.
"Where 'yonder'?" Madame demanded, a little impatiently.
"In uh hen-'ous'!"
Sure enough! The three missing turkeys had been accidentally locked up in the morning when the chickens were fed.
Artemise, for some unknown reason, had hidden herself during the search behind the hen-house, and had heard their muffled gobble.