'It's a far cry from here to the Lawrence Hall,' said Jim. 'Better turn in early, Scott. It's paddy-carts to-morrow; you'll begin loading at five.'
'Aren't you going to give Mr. Scott one day's rest?'
'Wish I could, Lizzie. 'Fraid I can't. As long as he can stand up we must use him.'
'Well, I've had one Europe evening, at least … By Jove, I'd nearly forgotten! What do I do about those babies of mine?'
'Leave them here,' said William—'we are in charge of that—and as many goats as you can spare. I must learn how to milk now.'
'If you care to get up early enough to-morrow I'll show you. I have to milk, you see; and, by the way, half of em have beads and things round their necks. You must be careful not to take 'em off, in case the mothers turn up.'
'You forget I've had some experience here.'
'I hope to goodness you won't overdo.' Scott's voice was unguarded.
'I'll take care of her,' said Mrs. Jim, telegraphing hundred-word messages as she carried William off, while Jim gave Scott his orders for the coming campaign. It was very late—nearly nine o'clock.
'Jim, you're a brute,' said his wife, that night; and the Head of the
Famine chuckled.