"Why, how to get at 'em."
"Oh!" Aunt Sereny brightened up wonderfully.
"How d'ye s'pose 'twould do to ask a whole raft on 'em to come?" asked Farmer Hurlbut, reflectively.
"I'd be kinder afraid on 'em, so many, seems to me"—with a little deprecatory laugh.
"Thet's so," said her considerate husband. "They be wild little critters, so I've heerd. Mebby five or six would be enough. My! how their eyes would shine to see them nuts!"
Aunt Sereny laughed—a wholesome, sunshiny laugh as ever was heard.
"'N' I know," continued Farmer Hurlbut, affectionately, "that you'd feed 'em up, 'n' pet 'em, 'n' do 'em more good 'n all the mission schools in creation."
Aunt Sereny protested modestly, but was sure she would be willing to try and see what she could do.
There was a little time of silence, during which the clock struck nine.
"Wa'al, what say, Sereny?" said the old farmer at last.