At the top of the short flight of wide stone steps they stopped
and huddled silently, until the black shadow of them warned
Phoebe of their presence. She had lived too long in the West to
seem startled when she suddenly discovered herself watched by
three pair of beady black eyes, so she merely nodded, and laid
down her butter-ladle to shake hands all around.
"How, Hagar? How, Viney? How, Lucy? Heap glad to see you.
Bueno buttermilk--mebbyso you drinkum?"
However diffident they might be when it came to announcing their
arrival, their bashfulness did not extend to accepting offers of
food or drink. Three brown hands were eagerly
outstretched--though it was the hand of Hagar which grasped first
the big tin cup. They not only drank, they guzzled, and
afterward drew a fold of blanket across their milk-white lips,
and grinned in pure animal satisfaction.
"Bueno. He-e-ap bueno!" they chorused appreciatively, and
squatted at the top of the stone steps, watching Phoebe
manipulate the great ball of yellow butter in its wooden bowl.
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