hydrant's

Updated: July 21, 2025

Five or six half-clad chickens, huddling together in the first strangeness of maternal desertion, were drinking from an Indian mortar under the hydrant, and mother Withrow, coming to the door to empty her dish-pan, stood a moment looking at them. "That there hydrant's quit drippin' again," she said gruffly, turning toward the old man.

Margaret Collier Graham - Stories of the Foot-hills