"And I don't care a tinker's dam how you do it," he said. "Drink
it all, if you want to. I'll take the biggest--that one under
the milk-house." Whereat they jeered at him for wanting to be
close to Evadna.
"Well, who has a better right?" he challenged, and then
inconsiderately left them before they could think of a
sufficiently biting retort.
So they went to work, each in his own way, agreeing mostly in
untiring industry. That is how Miss Georgie found them
occupied--except that Good Indian had stopped long enough to
soothe Evadna and her aunt, and to explain that the water would
really not rise much higher in the milk-house, and that he didn't
believe Evadna's pet bench at the head of the pond would be
inaccessible because of his efforts.
Phoebe was sloshing around upon the flooded floor of her
milk-house, with her skirts tucked up and her indignation growing
greater as she gave it utterance, rescuing her pans of milk and
her jars of cream. Evadna, upon the top step, sat with her feet
tucked up under her as if she feared an instant inundation.
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