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Updated: May 5, 2025
In front of the house the well-bucket, hanging high upon the sweep, seemed dropping gold into the depths beneath. On the porch, upon a table scrubbed "white as the driven snow," were set the bright tin pans ready to receive the evening's milk. Within the house the maids were singing gayly as they passed to and fro preparing a substantial supper for the farmer.
I wusn't cryin' fer the same reason 'at the rest of 'em wus, but the tears wus jest a-streamin' down my face like a leaky well-bucket, fer I believed the thing wus goin' to work, an' I wus thinkin' how glad you'd be.
Then we heard Keyser at work at the well-bucket; and looking out the back window, we saw him bringing in a pail of water. On his way he encountered a dog, and in order to give his pent-up feelings adequate expression, he kicked the animal clear over the fence. Presently he came into the parlor, mopped his forehead, and began again. Keyser.
She drew up the well-bucket, hand over hand, and washed in its generous leak. Within, the night wind was changing and sweetening the air. As the younger girl bustled about, the elder put on a fresher dress, and smoothed and plaited her hair. Again, that strange elation! She was almost glad. "Supper!" sang out Marylyn. Dallas started consciously.
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