“We ain’t got the help——”
“Six cows,” growled Odell; “White Lady, Snow Queen, Silver Maid, Thistledown, Milkweed Lass, and Whitewater Lily.... I gotta make money. I’m aimin’ to and I’m a-going to. I got four sons. And that’s that!”
“Elmer——”
“Awright. I know all what you gonna say, Ed. But where does it get you to go around with a face a foot long? How’s things to start unless somebody starts ’em? Awright, prices is bad. You can’t sell a pure-breed caaf in this dinged country. There isn’t no market for a fancy heifer. Everybody’s breedin’ Holsteins ’n’sloshin’ around after grades. Awright; nobody wants Guernsey quality; everybody wants Holstein bulk ’n’watery milk ’n’everything. I know. And my answer is, every acre, Ed; and six cows on test; and higher prices on every danged caaf that’s dropped.
“If I sell a heifer it’s a favour to be paid for through the nose. And I feed every bull-caaf and no vealin’ this year. Enough hogs to turn out till October; not another danged snout! If the Bank don’t see me through I’ll blow it up. Now, g’wan and make your plans.”
He went into the creamery where his wife stood beside the separator, watching a cat lap up some spilled cream.
“Your pa’s timid, Mazie,” he said. “I tell him I cal’late t’start under full steam. What do you say?”
She laughed: “Pa’s got notions. He allus was a mite slow. I guess you know best, Elmer.”
“We all gotta work,” he said. “That means Eris, too.”
“She allus helps me,” remarked Mazie, simply.