“I didn’t say she’s bad. But she’s twenty, and she ought to be more help to us. And she ought to quit readin’ and moonin’ and dreamin’ and lazin’——”
“You quit your lazin’, too,” laughed Mazie, setting a pan of cream in the ice chest. “Why don’t you go down to the barn and ring that new herd-bull? You can’t get him into the paddock without a staff any more. And if you don’t watch out Whitewater Chieftain will hurt somebody.... ’N’I’ll be a widow.”
As Odell went out the dairy door, preoccupied with the ticklish job before him, he met Eris with her arms full of new kittens.
“Mitzi’s,” she explained, “aren’t they too cunning, daddy? I hope they’re not to be drowned.”
“I ain’t runnin’ a cat-farm,” remarked Odell. “Did you mend my canvas jacket?”
“Yes; it’s on your bed.”
“Did you coop them broody hens? I bet you didn’t.”
“Yes. There are seventeen in three coops.”
“Housework done?”
“Yes.”