"Oh, yes, very well indeed."
"Hit's a lonesome time for a man-person to be left with the cooking and the young-uns on his hands. Mostly I don't favor women-folks traipsing over the world no great."
"Not if they have husbands and children to leave behind. Though," added Virginia, "even a busy wife and mother is better for a little change, now and then, and ought to have it."
Uncle Lot cast a sidelong, triumphant glance at Aunt Ailsie, and returned to the attack.
"Quare notions is abroad nowadays," he remarked, "and women-folks is a-taking more freedom than allus sets well on 'em. Rutheny here, she never even stops to ax Link may she ride in to town—she jest ketches her a nag and lights out. Eh, law, and even my old woman is allus a-pining to see new sights, and werried of where she belongs at."
"Maybe she's stayed at home too long—everybody needs a change of scene occasionally. We should love to take Aunt Ailsie down for a visit to us in the Blue Grass when we go back."
"Women, I'd give my life to go!" fervently exclaimed Aunt Ailsie.
Uncle Lot started up, his features working. "Never whilst I draw breath!" he declared; "I don't aim to see my woman toled off from the duties she tuck upon her when she tied up with me, and ramping around over creation with a passel of—of—of strange women. Men in the Blue Grass may put up with hit,—may have to,—but I won't. Whilst I live, I'm the head of my house and my wife, and home she'll stay! And other women I could name would be a sight better off in their homes, too, with their rightful men!"
Aunt Ailsie hastened to pour oil on the troubled waters. "You know well, paw, that I hain't never in life gone again' no wish of yourn, nor crossed you ary time in forty-six year. And I would die before I would go again' your idees. All I said was I would like to go with the women; but the rael thought was fur from me. And hit's about time now for you to go feed the property, so's we can eat and get cleaned up afore dark. I allow," she ventured bravely, "these gals will maybe take the night with us."
Uncle Lot glared fiercely upon the visitors, started to speak, struggled for a moment between the claims of indignation and of hospitality, and finally stalked off majestically to the stables, whence he did not return until summoned by a loud blast of the gourd-horn.