"Mis' Sykes looks up at him out from under her hand that her head was resting on.
"'Go on out o' here, Mr. Henney,' she says sharp to him, 'an' quit your subscription quiet. Can't you see you're disturbing us?' she says.
"With that Mis' Toplady wheeled around on her high stool and looked at him, calm as a clock.
"'Rob Henney,' says she, 'you come over here. I'll read you what I've wrote about you,' she told him.
"The piece begun like this:—
"'Rob Henney, our esteemed fellow-townsman and milkman, was talked with this morning on his cow sheds. The reporter said to same that what was wanting would be visiting the stables, churn, cans, pans, and like that, being death is milked out of most cows if they are not kept clean and inspected regular for signs of consumption. Mr. Henney replied as follows:
"'First: That his cows had never been inspected because nothing of that kind had ever been necessary.
"'Second: That he was in the milk business for a living, and did the town expect him to keep it in milk for its health?
"'Third: That folks had been drinking milk since milk begun, and if the Lord saw fit to call them home, why not through milk, or even through consumption, as well as through pneumonia and others?