“Yes,” replied the School-teacher, “that is it. He will keep me from getting homesick.”
“Well,” said the woman, “if I let him go, you'll take care of him, won't you?”
“I will surely take care of him.”
“An' you'll bring him back before sundown.”
“Yes.”
“Well, it'll be powerful lonesome, but I reckon I can finish gatherin' the beans. I will fix him somethin' to eat. You can put it in your pocket.”
The woman went into the house, got a flat bottle, such as a cheap sort of liniment is sold in at the mountain stores, scalded it out with water and filled it with fresh milk. Then she cut some thin slices of a white bread called “salt rising” and spread it with butter. She stopped with the knife in her hand, considered a moment, and then cut two larger pieces of bread, buttered them, and wrapped them all in a piece of homespun linen towel. She went out to the man with the folded towel and the bottle in her hand.
“Here's his milk an' here's his bread. I put in two pieces for you.”
The man put the bottle and the bread into his pocket. The light of his great gray-blue eyes deepened.
“You also thought of me,” he said.