“Can I go by the pasture, Father? It’s a lot shorter than round by the road.”
“Yes, I think it’s perfectly safe. There are only about thirty head of steers there now, and they won’t pay any attention to you. Well, I must be off. Do you want anything from town, Mother?”
“Yes, I have a list.”
“Get it ready, will you, while I go across and see what Marian’s commissions are.”
16“Across” meant across the road to the white cottage where Frank and Marian and their beloved baby daughter, Jill, lived. Little Jill was two and a half years old and everybody’s pet, from Jim Bart, the hired man, to “Anjen,” which was Jilly’s rendering of Auntie Jane. Even Huz and Buz, the two collie pups, followed her about adoringly, licking her hands and face when opportunity offered, to her great indignation.
“Do way, Huz, do way, Buz,” was frequently heard, followed by a wail if their attentions persisted.
The family watched Dr. Morton drive away in the spring wagon down the long tree-bordered lane. When he was out of sight, Jane picked up the egg basket and started off toward the pasture gate.
“Where are you going, Chicken Little?” Marian called after her.
“To Benton’s for eggs.”
“To Benton’s? Let me see, that’s less than a quarter of a mile, isn’t it? I wonder if you’d mind taking Jilly along. She could walk that far if you’d go slow, and it’s such a lovely day, I’d like to have her out in the sunshine–and I’m horribly busy this morning.”