“She gawked at him,” grunted Odell. “She’d better get that pitcher idee outa her fool head,—lazin’ around readin’ them pitcher magazines ’n’ novels, ’n’ moonin all over the place instid of findin’ chores to occupy her ’n’ doin’ them——”
“Oh, hush,” interrupted Mazie; “you talk and take on awful foolish, Elmer. When Eris marries some bright, steady boy, all that trash in her head will go into the slop-pail.”
Odell scowled:
“Well, why don’t she marry, then? She ain’t no help to you——”
“She is! Hush up your head. You’ll miss her, too, when she marries, and some strange man takes her away. I guess I know who aims to do it, too.”
“Well, who aims to do it? Hey? She don’t have nothin’ to say to our Whitewater boys. She allus acts proud and highmighty and uppish. Dan Burns he come sparkin’ her ’n’ she stayed in her room and wouldn’t even come down to supper. ’N’ there was Clay Wallace, ’n’ Buddy Morgan——”
“It looks like she’s willing to be sparked to-night, don’t it?” said Mazie, with an odd little laugh.
Elmer rose on one elbow: “Say, you don’t think he wants our Eris, do yeh?”
“Why not? Isn’t Eris good enough for any man?”
“Well, well, dang it all, Stew Graydon seems diff-runt.... He’s too educated ’n’ stylish for plain folks—’n’ he’s got a big position in the mill. He don’t want our Eris——”