“Say, pa,” he called out, “mommy wants you up to the house!”
“When? Now?” demanded his father in dull surprise.
“I guess so. She said you was to come right up.”
Odell placed the empty milk pail on the floor: “Eris home yet?”
“I dunno. I guess not. Will you let me milk Snow-bird, pa?”
“No. Look at your hands! You go up and shake down some hay.... Where’s your ma?”
“She’s up in Eris’ room. She says for you to come. Can’t I wash my hands and——”
“No. G’wan up to the loft. And don’t step on the pitchfork, neither.”
He turned uncertainly toward Lister and found his father-in-law looking at him.
“Kinda queer,” he muttered, “Mazie sending for me when she knows I’m milking....”