“You look like you’d been burnt out or somethin’. Who does your work? Got any cow? Oh, you hain’t? Well, I’ve got a cow. This here is my milk bucket. I’ll fetch ye some milk.”
“No, no, no,” exclaimed Lucy, in alarm. “Our milk is to be brought from town.”
“Is, hey? Well, I’ll fetch you some sour milk; five cents a quart.”
“Don’t take the trouble,” said Sadie mildly; “we are not fond of sour milk.”
After a long inspection of the room, Pecy gazed observantly out of the window.
“Look here! What’s them things hanging up in the trees? Look like fish-nets. I’ve seen folks in Rosewood swing in just such; be they swings?—Well, I reckon I must be a-goin’. But we paster our cow this side the river, and I’ll call agin when I come to milk.”
“Is it possible that creature is really gone?”
“Hope she stayed just as long as she wished to,” said Lucy, shutting the door forcibly.
“Oh, she’s only half civilized, and doesn’t know any better,” returned the more charitable Sadie.