"I recognise that, for I have seen it; but it isn't true of Mr.
Masters."
"I give him up," said young Knowlton. "I am sure I shouldn't like him."
"Why, do you like these common signs of the 'parson language,' as you call it, that you have been reckoning?"
The answer was a decided negative accompanied with a laugh again; and then Diana's visitor turned the conversation to the country, and the place, and the elm trees; looked out of the window and observed that the haymakers were at work near the house, and finally said he must go out to look at them nearer—he had not made hay since he was a boy.
He went out, and Diana went back to her mother in the lean-to.
"Mother, young Mr. Knowlton is here."
"Well, keep him out o' my way; that's all I ask."
"Haven't you got through yet?"
"Through! There was but one single pan of ginger-bread left this noon; and there ain't more'n three loaves o' bread in the pantry. What's that among a tribe o' such grampuses? I've got to make biscuits for tea, Di; and I may as well get the pie-crust off my hands at the same time; it'll be so much done for to-morrow. I wish you'd pick over the berries. And then I'll find you something else to do. If I had six hands and two heads, I guess I could about get along."
"But, mother, it won't do for nobody to be in the parlour."