“The same to you, Goodwife Elderkin. I know your voice, though I can’t see your face.”
Presently a hand parted the thicket and a woman’s face appeared.
“I’m getting flag-root. It gives a twang to root beer that nothing else will, and the flag hereabout is the twangiest I know of. Stop at the house as you go along and get some beer, won’t you? Mary Ann’s to home.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Devotion, with a stiff bow. “It’s a little early for beer this morning. I’ll stop as I come this way again. How are your sheep and lambs this year?”
“First rate. Never better.”
“Have you any to part with?”
“Who wants to buy?” and Goodwife Elderkin came out from the thicket to the road-side, eager for gain.
“We don’t sell sheep in Windham this year,” said Mr. Devotion.
“Why, what’s the matter with the man?” thought Mrs. Elderkin, for Ebenezer Devotion liked to drive a good bargain as well as any one of his neighbors. Before she had time to give expression to her surprise, he said with a sharp inclination of his head toward the sun, “We’ve neighbors over yonder, good and true, who wouldn’t sell sheep if we were shut in by ships of war, and hungry, too.”