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She did not like the phrase; "queer" was not so bad perhaps she was queer but she had an instinctive repugnance to being called a young-one. Birds and rabbits had young-ones and she was neither feathered nor furred. So very few of the neighborhood children were invited to the shaded interior of the old surrey.
"The most what?" he demanded. "Is it likely to be very bad?" "Why why well, I can't say even that yet. But there! as I told you, I'm not going to permit it to worry me. And you mustn't worry, either. That's why I don't give you any further particulars. There may be nothing in it, after all." His visitor smiled. "Say, Mr. Sylvester," he said, "you're like the young-ones used to be when I was a boy.
Them's gamblers, an' mighty awful men; an' with that she snatches away the yearlin's like they's contam'nated. 'This is relief to Cherokee, but the young-ones howls like coyotes, an' wants to come back an' finish pillagin' him.
I hope I ain't raised me up a mess of pigs. You young-ones, you fetch a pail of water from the pump, and we'll see how clean we can get. My land, what wouldn't I give for a bathtub and a sink! And a gas stove!" "Peekaneeka, Gramma!" Dick reminded her, squeezing her. "Picnic my foot! I'm too old for such goings-on."
"'My own father, whose name is the same as mine, bein' Willyum Greene Sterett, is the oldest of my grandfather's chil'en. He's a stern, quiet gent, an' all us young-ones is wont to step high an' softly whenever he's pesterin' 'round. He respects nobody except my grandfather, fears nothin' but gettin' out of licker.
"But land knows," Grandma said, "what I'd have done if the Lord hadn't tempered the wind to the shorn lamb. What with no Center near here and only the public health nurse looking in once in a while, it was lucky the young-ones didn't have the fever bad." In August they were all well and peeled.
"The six hosses lines out at a ten-mile gait, which rattles things, an' makes the black-coat gent sigh, while the young-ones pours forth some appallin' shrieks. The female gets speshul mad at this, allowin' they's playin' it low down on her fam'ly.
"Known him all my life. He lives over to Orham. Makes windmills and whirlagigs and such for young-ones to play with. HE ain't any spy. His name's Jed Winslow, but we always call him 'Shavin's, 'count of his whittlin' up so much good wood, you understand. Ain't that so, Shavin's? Haw, haw!" Jed regarded Mr. Wixon mournfully. "Um-hm," he admitted. "I guess likely you're right, Squealer."
"Was that all?" he asked, with a sigh. "Yup. No, 'twa'n't neither, come to think of it. Rastus Young's wife, come in with her two young-ones and bought some shoes and hats for 'em." "Did she pay cash?" demanded Captain Shadrach sharply. "No; she said charge 'em up, so I done it. Say, ain't you comin' in pretty soon? It's 'most my supper time."
"One time this Cherokee an' Texas Thompson is comin' in from Tucson on the stage. Besides Cherokee an' Texas, along comes a female, close-herdin' of two young-ones; which them infants might have been t'rant'lers an' every one a heap happier. Sorter as range-boss of the whole out. fit is a lean gent in a black coat.
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