Pearl started at the sound of the voice and found herself looking into such a good-natured face that she laughed too, with a feeling of good-fellowship.
The old dog ran to the stranger with every sign of delight at seeing him.
"I am one of the neighbours," he said. "I live over there"—pointing to a little car-roofed shanty farther up the creek. "Did I frighten you? I am sorry if I did, but you see I like the sentiment of your song so much I could not help telling you. You need not think it strange if you find me milking one of the cows occasionally. You see, I believe in dealing directly with the manufacturer and thus save the middleman's profit, and so I just take what milk I need from So-Bossie over there."
"Does she know?" Pearl asked, nodding toward the house.
"Who? So-Bossie?"
"No, Mrs. Motherwell."
"Well, no," he answered slowly. "You haven't heard of her having a fit, have you?"
"No," Pearl answered wonderingly.
"Then we're safe in saying that the secret has been kept from her."
"Does it hurt her, though?" Pearl asked.