CHAPTER III
Mother was scrubbing the well-house.
"Cossy Wakely," she says, "where you been?"
"Walking," I says.
"Walking!" says she; "with all I got to do. I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself. My land, what you got on your best clothes for?"
"Mother," I says, "you call me 'Cosma' after this, will you?"
She stared at me. "Such airs," she says. "And callin' me 'Mother.' Who you been with? What you rigged out like that for?"
"I didn't dress up for anybody," I says, "only because I wanted to."
"Such a young one as you've turned out," says she. "What's to become of you I don't know. Wait till your Pa comes in—I'll tell him."
"Mother," I says, "I'm twenty years old. You call me 'Cosma,' and let me call you 'Mother.' And don't feel you have to scold me all the time."