“In this case it’s ‘when in Rome do as the Romans do,’” was the retort.
The farmer now reached the rail fence that enclosed the pasture, and lowered the bars to permit his visitors to pass within. As he walked beside Mrs. James, he pointed out a cow standing in one corner of the lot. “That’s the one for sale. She’s the best milker and the gentlest creature I’ve got. I’m real sorry to part with her.”
“Why do you do it, then?” asked Janet, bluntly.
“’Cause I got too many to care for and folks don’t want to buy a poor milker, you know. They wants to get one of your best, so I decided to give her up if she brought the price.”
“What is her price?” asked Miss Mason, but Mrs. James said nothing.
The farmer mentioned an outrageous sum and the ladies merely looked at him. Then Mrs. James said: “I only wanted to buy one cow—not pay you for the herd.”
She turned to go back up the lane, followed by the girls and Miss Mason. The latter was smiling at her companion’s remark.
“You don’t know what you’re turning down, Ma’am, when you think that price too high,” argued the farmer.
“I know that that is an old cow of a common breed. I want a cow of not more than four years of age, a cross between an Alderney and a Guernsey—or perhaps a strain of Jersey in her. And I won’t pay more than half the price you ask for that beef,” was Mrs. James’ retort.
“Wouldn’t you care to look at any of the others as long as you are here?” anxiously asked the man, seeing his customer was going away.