Mrs. James told Frances to drive on, and the man was left watching them go down the road. Janet seemed to think the calf was lost to them, because no money had been paid on it.
They passed several other farms before they turned to a country road that was said to be a shortcut to Peekskill. They had not traveled this road more than two miles before they passed a wretched little house with a few acres of untilled soil about it. On the corner of the house was a sign that read: “Fine cow for sale cheap.”
“That’s the breed we are looking for,” laughed Miss Mason.
“Girls, for goodness sake don’t nudge me into pieces if you like the looks of this cow!” commanded Mrs. James, as she got down out of the car.
The girls trailed after Mrs. James as she went to the side door where a lad sat digging in the dirt. She stopped and said: “Where is your father, little boy?”
“I dunno! Nobody knows.”
This was a poser and the girls giggled, but Mrs. James changed her form of question: “Can I see your mother?”
“Ain’t got no mudder. Ain’t got nobuddy but Jipson.”
This unexpected reply brought a chorus of laughter from the girls, and a smile from Mrs. James. Before she could ask another form of question, however, a towseled head was thrust from a dormer-window and a woman called down: “Who’sat, Bobby?”
The boy looked up and said phlegmatically: “Dunno.”